


One Last Time

by intolauren



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Attempt at Humor, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Heavy Angst, Nightmares, OHFAT, OlicityHiatusFic, OlicityHiatusFic-A-Thon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Sexual Humor, Terrorism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 15:31:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 29,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11084547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intolauren/pseuds/intolauren
Summary: A place where I'll keep all my submissions for the Olicity Hiatus Fic-a-thon! Tags/ratings etc will be updated as more fics are added.Special thanks to thebookjumper on Tumblr for creating this amazing writing project!! <3





	1. Eye contact

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic submission for the Olicity Hiatus Fic-a-thon! The prompt is: Eye Contact 
> 
> I'm sorry the tags aren't that uplifting... but neither is this story. I had to get it out though. You'll probably understand once you start reading why that is. I was involved in the attack in Manchester last week and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it and reliving it and a lot of this was written mid panic attack so any mistakes/typos can be blamed on that and also on that I only read this back once or twice because I really just wanted to get it posted and out of the way. It turns out writing fic about traumatic events is like therapy for me and much like therapy, once I've got stuff off of my chest, I want to forget about it. 
> 
> Hopefully the rest of my submissions won't be this heavy! But I also hope you enjoy this anyway. Please let me know what you think! 
> 
> Obvious trigger warnings for terrorism and explosions.

It had been hours, days even, and she could still hear the ringing in her ears, still smell the burning, of metal or flesh she wasn't sure, could still taste the panic in her mouth, the screams of the thousands of people around her that would never be heard, still see the blood smeared everywhere, the crying faces of strangers she suddenly had wanted to hold and protect but couldn't, still feel the churning in her stomach and the tightness in her chest and the unshed tears behind her eyes. 

She’d held it together, she’d had to, she’d had to make sure she got herself home, make sure her friends were safe, make sure they were reassured that she was fine even if it meant saying those words over and over and smiling and pretending her legs weren't trembling and she couldn't taste acid in her mouth. But now she was alone, she couldn't stop reliving it. Now she was alone, she couldn't breathe. Now she was finally alone after days of having places to be and responsibilities to keep, she couldn't stop thinking, couldn't stop crying. 

That night was supposed to have been one of the best nights of her life. She’d been looking forward to it for months, counting down the days even. It had been that one thing that made the shittiest of days worthwhile because even those days meant she was one day closer. She didn't care that it was dumb for an adult woman to be counting down the days to a pop concert or that her friends teased her relentlessly about her music taste and told her she was crazy for spending so much money on a ticket. She just didn't _care_. There wasn't much Felicity Smoak had to be excited about in her life so she’d be damned if anyone made her feel like she couldn't be excited for this. 

She’d taken the night off from the team even though it had kind of killed her to leave her comm behind; she really couldn't remember the last time she’d had a night off and being away from them and in the city by herself had been both exhilarating and extremely unnerving at the same time. She’d told them she’d be back by 11 and would drop by the bunker before she headed home. They’d all laughed and told her that even on her nights off she couldn’t take a night off. Felicity had laughed too but in her head she’d just thought about how nights off felt wrong anyway because working with them was where she was happiest. She’d never really felt like she belonged anywhere but working with them had changed that, changed everything. And as excited about the concert as she had been, she still couldn’t wait to get back to them. Her night had been supposed to end like any other night. Except it hadn't. 

The day had been unusually warm for mid-May and there was a feeling in the air that she couldn’t really describe. It just felt like contentment; the winter just gone had been so long and today had been the first day in a long time where she’d been reminded just how good it felt to have the sun on her skin. 

She’d already seen her favourite artist perform before, two summers ago, but seeing her again had still felt like that very first time. The excitement had made her giddy, made her insides turn to butterflies and even queueing on her own outside the venue hadn't dampened them. She’d chosen to go to the concert on her own mostly out of necessity because none of her friends liked the artist and the tickets were expensive. She hadn't wanted to force any of them out of their evening jobs anyway; the team was much more important than her not being alone for a concert. Besides, Felicity had spent _a lot_ of time alone in her life and she wasn't the kind of person who would miss out on things just because she didn't have anyone to go with. She liked that about herself; she was strong, not lonely. 

When she’d finally made it to her seat she hadn't been short of people to talk to anyway. Two teenage girls on the row in front of her had turned around and chattered excitedly about how it was their first concert without their parents, she’d complimented a guy behind her who had been wearing knee high boots, fishnet tights and a crop top, telling him he looked incredible. She wished she’d asked for a picture with him now. She’d asked a woman to her left who was sitting with her young daughter if she knew what time the artist was due onstage and it had lead to a lengthy conversation between the support acts about nonsensical things. Everyone had been so happy, so excited. She remembered thinking to herself right there that concerts had to be one of the safest and most uplifting places in the entire world where everyone was full of so much love. For each other. For the artist onstage. For life. She couldn't stop thinking about those people now, about the people she’d spoken to or made eye contact with or smiled at throughout the night. She wondered, hoped, _prayed_ that they’d made it out alive. 

_Alive_. That word. She was alive. She didn't know how or why, but she was. 

The explosion had taken everyone by surprise. Of course it had. No one expects one of the happiest nights of their lives to end in terror. 

She’d been on such a high, everyone had; everywhere she looked she’d seen smiles and heard laughter and people singing and dancing even though there was no music playing anymore. She’d smiled to herself at the sight of it all, at the atmosphere in the air that was so electric she could feel it running through her bones. She’d taken out her phone to text Oliver, to let him know that the concert had ended and she’d be on her way home soon. He’d asked her to let him know when it ended so he’d know when to expect her back, only she’d never actually got around to sending the text. The text that read “Hey! I'm about to head out now so should be home in an hour or so. I've had the best time, I can't wait to annoy you all by talking about it non-stop for the rest of my life ;) xo” was still sitting in her drafts on her phone, unsent. She’d barely looked at her phone for four days now. It wasn't like her but every time she picked it up, she felt like throwing it across the room. So she’d started leaving it in her purse. It didn't matter anymore. 

Closing her eyes, she tried to remember how to breathe normally. Her chest had taken to doing weird things the last few days and every now and then she’d realise she wasn't really inhaling properly and would choke on the lack of oxygen in her lungs. 

And every time she coughed, she could taste the burning again, the smoke, the terror. 

She gasped then and stood up quickly, needing some air. She let herself out onto the balcony and collapsed into one of the wooden chaises she kept there, overlooking the city. She’d thought the fresh air would help but it was a Friday and the city was too loud even though it was nearing midnight. She covered her ears with her hands but could still hear sirens on the streets below. 

_Sirens. So many sirens._

_Screams. So many screams_. 

She couldn't breathe. She needed to breathe. 

Her palms felt sweaty and she rubbed them on her pants, seeing blood even though there wasn't any. She’d washed the blood away. She got home and scrubbed her hands raw until there couldn't possibly have been even a single remnant of anything left on them but all of a sudden she could see the warm, red liquid smeared everywhere. 

She wanted to scream. 

She was fine, she knew she was _fine_ but the panic was still there, riding inside of her and she didn't know what to do. It didn't matter whether her eyes were open or closed because all she could see either way were faces streamed with tears, with blood, with fear, bone chilling fear that made her shake. 

She knew she should call someone, her mom or Oliver maybe, but she couldn't. She knew she’d never get the words out. And anyway, they all thought she was fine. She’d told them enough times over the last few days that she was fine. 

She was _fine_. 

She was _alive_. 

She was home and she was safe and she wasn't hurt but it didn't matter, none of that mattered because her brain just couldn't stop reliving everything. Reliving those moments right before she’d started reassuring everyone that she was fine. 

She took in another mouthful of air, forcing her lungs to cooperate even when they protested and she felt bile rise up in her throat. 

She could feel the muscles in her legs aching again, the way they'd ached as she’d laid in bed that night unable to sleep even after walking the three miles home without even realising, the shock and adrenaline pumping through her veins and keeping her moving until she’d unlocked the door and collapsed in exhaustion. It hadn't mattered how far she walked though, she could always hear the screams, the sirens, the explosion itself. They'd followed her home. They'd followed her home so that she didn't even feel safe there anymore. She didn't feel safe anywhere. 

She was supposed to be able to cope with this; she had to deal with trauma on a daily basis working with Oliver and the team. But this was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. 

She’d seen people dying, watched them bleeding out on the floor, screaming and crying or not saying anything at all, and she hadn't been able to help them. Her survival instincts had kicked in and she’d walked right past them, trying to block out the sounds of their cries by focusing straight ahead, focusing on getting out of the building where the air wasn't thick with smoke. She hadn't even looked back. She’d just left them. It hadn't hit her until she was miles away that she should have done something. And then the blood on her hands that she hadn't even realised was there had started to sting, but not because she was hurt, because someone else was, had been, and she hadn't helped them. The blood on her hands stung like it was coming from inside her, but it wasn't, it wasn't her blood, it was the blood of someone else, another person she hadn't been able to help.

She just hadn't helped them. She'd saved herself and left. And she couldn't stop thinking about it. 

The guilt was tearing her up inside and making it hard to breathe again. The guilt that she was fine, that she was alive, that she was safe, and so many other people weren't. 

_She hadn’t even looked back_.

She could hear a banging and in the back of her mind something was telling her that it was just the door, someone was knocking on the door, but it felt too loud, everything felt too loud and her ears were starting to ring again and every time she inhaled she expected to taste smoke. But the taste never came, and suddenly she wasn't alone anymore and she could hear someone saying her name. 

“Felicity,” 

It wasn't a question, he wasn't asking her anything, he was just saying her name. 

“I'm fine,” 

She could hear herself lying even with her hands over her ears still and she didn't even know why. She wasn't fine. Of course she wasn't fine. And Oliver knew that. He'd always known that. He'd known since the moment she finally made it back to the bunker at 2:30am after retouching up her makeup and pulling her hair back into her usual ponytail and forcing a brave smile onto her face as she told them she’d left early and hadn't even been involved. They'd made eye contact as she was speaking, and she'd known even then that he knew she was lying, but he hadn't questioned her, hadn't even brought it up again. He'd known that's what she needed. Of course he’d known. It was _Oliver_. The look he’d given her as their eyes met had been heavy, so heavy it broke her heart because they both knew that he wasn't supposed to look at her like that anymore.

“Felicity,” he said again, softer, quieter, and she knew she should respond but she couldn't, she couldn't even move. 

She just stayed sitting there on the wooden chair in the dim light of the balcony with her hands over her ears trying to forget that she existed, her chest tightening and loosening, her eyes squeezed shut. 

She didn't know how long she stayed that way. Time had really stopped meaning anything since that Monday night. She knew some time had passed because when she finally felt able to uncover her ears and open her eyes, the city really wasn't so loud anymore and a lot of the lights in the building opposite hers had been turned off, blinds and curtains drawn for the night. She wondered absentmindedly who lived behind those windows. She wondered if they could sleep at night. 

“Felicity?” 

It was definitely a question now. She looked up and faced him, not even trying to understand the expression on his face or why he was here when he hadn't come over uninvited for _so long_. 

She wanted to tell him she was fine, but she couldn't make herself say the words. There wasn't any point in saying them. So instead she said, “I'm sorry,” even though that didn't make sense either. 

She hoped he would understand anyway. He usually did. 

“Talk to me,” he whispered, taking her hand in his. 

Tentatively, hesitantly; it was never like this before. 

She hadn't realised how cold she was until all she could feel was his warm skin closing around her fingers. She shivered involuntarily at the sensation of his warmth. At his hand holding onto hers. If he noticed, he didn't say. She knew this should feel strange, but it didn't. This was okay. This was and always would be okay. 

“I was there. On Monday. I was there when it happened,” Felicity said, not knowing where to start but starting anyway. 

“I know. I knew the moment you came back,” Oliver replied, his voice so soft and quiet, his grip on her hand tightening just enough to notice. 

“I didn't want to say anything. I didn't want you guys to worry. I wanted to just forget about it. I wanted to just pretend it never happened and go back to the way things were before I left the house that night. That's why I didn't say anything. I didn't want to lie, I just… I wanted to forget.” 

She wasn't really making much sense, she knew that, but she also knew that Oliver would understand anyway. Oliver, more than anyone on the planet would understand. He’d gone through enough of his own trauma ten times over. 

“Oliver I… I didn't help them. I just walked. I didn't even look back,” 

She met his eyes then, half expecting judgement but knowing she wouldn't find it. Not in his eyes. Not ever. He didn't speak, and she was grateful. She knew there wasn't anything he could say that she wanted to hear. 

“When it happened, I was so terrified. I always thought that this job, the job we do together, would prepare me for situations like that but… it didn't. When it happened I just froze. Everything you'd ever taught me about what to do in a dangerous situation just didn't exist anymore. My body just reacted and my brain wouldn't do _anything_ except tell me to get out of there even though I wanted to stop and help people. So many people I could've…” She stopped, needing to gather her thoughts before she started crying again. 

She knew she could cry in front of Oliver, it wasn't that. She just knew that if she started crying, she'd never be able to get the words out. 

“Every time I close my eyes I can see them. Crying and screaming and bleeding and literally dying right in front of my eyes. I can't make them go away. They're just there, everywhere. I can still taste the smoke in my mouth, still feel the blood on my hands but I don't even remember how it got there. Someone slammed a cupboard door in the coffee shop yesterday and I had to run to the bathroom because I was so scared and the sound just took me right back to that moment, to the explosion and I-” 

She stopped again. The more she talked, the more vivid the memories were becoming again and she didn't know if she could go on. The sights and sounds and smells were enveloping her from the inside out, or the outside in, she wasn't sure. 

“I can't breathe,” she managed to say, meeting his eyes again, knowing that hers were full of panic and fear. 

He took her other hand in his so that he was holding onto both of them and squeezed them tightly. 

“Hey, it's not real. None of it is real. Not anymore. Not right here. This-” he squeezed her hands again. “ _This_ , is what's real. Focus on that. Focus on your hands. On my hands. They're real. You're safe,” 

She was safe. She knew she was. And of course she’d focus on her hands, on his hands; she hadn't held his hand in so long. A new kind of pain crept into her chest at that and she wanted to pull away and hold on for dear life all at the same time. 

She closed her eyes again. She didn't even know why but keeping them open was exhausting. She didn't want to cry. 

“It's okay,” she felt rather than heard Oliver whisper, his voice so gentle and delicate that goosebumps erupted all over her skin. 

Somewhere inside of her she knew those were the exact words she’d been needing to hear because all of a sudden she was crying again but it all felt different this time and there wasn't a force of nature on earth that could have stopped her right then from ending up in Oliver’s arms, soaking his shirt with her tears, his warmth scooping her up and making her feel like Monday night was miles away in every sense of the term. 

“I should have helped them, shouldn’t I?” She sobbed, clinging to his shirt like her life depended on it. “And don't lie to me, Oliver.” It probably did. 

“Felicity,” he shushed, one hand stroking soft circles into her lower back, trying to soothe her. 

“Oliver, please. Tell me I should have helped them! I need to hear you tell me that I should have helped them. The guilt is eating me alive and I just need to hear from someone else that I deserve it!” 

She wasn't making sense again. She didn't know why she was yelling at him. She didn't know anything anymore. 

“You don't deserve it. Please don't-” 

He trailed off and instead just held her tighter, wrapped his arms so closely around her that she found herself being lifted up onto his lap and had no choice but to press her face right into his chest. 

“Felicity you- you did what you could. I know you feel like you could have done more, but you couldn't. You were a victim in this. It wasn't your place to be a hero. Not this time,” 

“I could, Oliver. I _could_! I could have stopped and turned back at any point and helped someone, _anyone_. Even if physically their wounds were beyond my basic medical training, I could have held someone’s hand and stayed with them so they weren't alone! There were kids there. _Children_. Children without their parents who were screaming and crying and I could have helped them. I _should_ have helped them! I don't even know if they're alive. I haven't been able to watch the news or look at my phone because I'm terrified I'm going to see one of their faces and hear that they didn't make it and I know it won't be my fault but I'll blame myself anyway because I just walked away and left them there. And now I'm here and I'm safe and I should be happy because I'm alive but I’m not, I'm just _not_ , and I feel guilty every time I realise that I'm breathing and it's just sick that part of me wishes I'd been injured too because then at least I might have a reason to still be feeling so messed up and terrified inside and-” 

He cut her off then by holding her even tighter, impossibly tighter, and she felt his chest convulse with a sob and realised he was crying with her, for her and she knew it was because he understood. She knew he understood everything she was feeling, she knew in her bones that he did, and suddenly she didn't want to say anymore. 

So she didn't. 

She just let him hold her. Let herself be held. 

Eventually, the sun started to rise over the city.


	2. Taste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Taste

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left me such a lovely comment on my last fic. I'm aware that I'm massively behind on replying to them but I promise I'm going to reply to them all asap! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this! I struggled to think of anything that I could add to this plot-wise so I just decided to leave it as dialogue only. Let me know what you think! :)

“Do you want me to be brutally honest with you this time?”

 

“Please. I can tell when you're lying anyway so you might as well,”

 

"This tastes awful," 

 

"Really?"

 

"Yup. I'm sorry, but it's bad," 

 

"Again?"

 

"Again,"

 

“The other 3 were really bad too, right?”

 

“Yeah. They were,” 

 

“I knew it. I could see it in your eyes. Even when you were telling me that I was getting better at it, I knew you were lying,” 

 

“You are getting better at it! You didn't even know how to make one at all to begin with! Now all you need to do is figure out how to make it taste good. I'd say that's progress,” 

 

“It doesn’t feel much like progress, but thanks,” 

 

“You're welcome,” 

 

" _Ughhhh_ , okay fine. Say it," 

 

"You want me to say it again?"

 

"You know you want to say it," 

 

"Wait... Felicity?"

 

"Hmm?"

 

"Do _you_ want me to say it?" 

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"I mean, are you making these omelettes all taste bad on purpose just so you can hear me tell you that you failed them in my Green Arrow voice?" 

 

(…)

 

"Felicity?"

 

"Okay _fine_ , maybe! I really like hearing you say it in the Green Arrow voice. It's really kind of hot..." 

 

(...)

 

"Don't laugh at me!"

 

"I'm not laughing I'm just- I'm smiling. Just smiling," 

 

"Really? Because that didn't look like smiling. It looked like laughing,"

 

"Hon, you know you don't have to make bad omelettes for me to say it, right? You could just ask me to say it," 

 

"I know but that's kind of lame, don't you think? And for the record, most of these were not bad on purpose. I really am just a bad cook. You and I both know that. And you can laugh at that, I don't mind," 

 

(...) 

 

"Okay, please can you say it now? And can you make it extra Green Arrow'y this time please? I promise I'll stop wasting ingredients and actually go and do something productive if you do," 

 

"Felicity Smoak?"

 

"Mmm?"

 

"You have failed this omelette.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please leave me a comment! I find it super difficult to continue writing without encouragement from others and so every single comment means the absolute world to me!
> 
> Feel free to leave any prompts or questions for me on Tumblr! My ask is right [HERE](http://wetsuiton.tumblr.com/ask) and I'm on there everyday :)


	3. At Odds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: At odds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be cute and fluffy and funny but it ended up being mostly angst and feels. I'm sorry and you're welcome. 
> 
> This kind of follows on from [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6955660/chapters/24052377) so I recommend reading that one first, even though it's not really 100% necessary. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think once you're done! :)

Felicity knows she’s drunk and really shouldn't be arguing right now. Or even speaking right now. She should just be taking herself to bed by herself where she could sober up and then by morning be back to her normal, albeit a little hungover, self. But it has been a long week and she’s had too much wine and all rationality has left her brain. Not that there is ever really all that much rationality in there anyway. Not when it comes to Oliver. _Especially not when it comes to Oliver._

And so here they are. Arguing about whether or not she can do the salmon ladder. She isn't quite drunk enough yet to get up and prove to him that she can, but she is definitely drunk enough to keep arguing her point; her point being that although she is small and doesn't work out half as much as she knows she probably should, she is absolutely certain that it can’t be that hard to do. 

As far as arguments go, this really isn't much of one at all. But being at odds with Oliver over something nonsensical like this is nice. It feels like old times when they'd exchange witty and sarcastic remarks back and forth all the time. 

“Would you have told _Sara_ that she couldn't do it?”

“Feli-” 

“What about _Laurel_? Would you have told her that you didn't think it was a good idea for her to try?” 

“Hey, I-” 

“Or what about Hel-”

“Felicity!” He yells, not loudly but it's definitely a yell because let's face it, she isn't ever going to shut up naming his ex girlfriends otherwise is she? Felicity doesn't let herself think about why his ex girlfriends doing the salmon ladder is suddenly important to her. And on the topic of whys, why is him yelling so attractive? Why is she staring at his mouth as he yells her name? “I never said that I didn't think you could do it!” 

“No, but you laughed when I suggested it which is as good as telling me that you don't think I'm strong enough,” Felicity says, still staring at his mouth because now that she's noticed it, it's all she can think about. 

He moves his head down, trying to catch her eye and when he does, the soft smile on his face tells her that he knows where she's staring. She knows she should feel embarrassed but she doesn't. 

The wine was _such_ a good- no, _bad idea_. 

“Let's just forget about it, okay?” He asks, still smiling at her and she finds herself agreeing because she doesn't really want to argue anymore anyway. Not when it's almost midnight and she knows she’s been here too long already and it will only be a matter of time before the conversation slips away and she has to make her excuses and head home to an empty apartment. 

That thought has her reaching for the second bottle and filling her glass. Only she doesn't get that far because there's only enough wine left to fill her glass halfway. Have they really already drank two bottles between them? 

She knows Oliver would never ask her to leave, but that's exactly why she forces herself to, every night. She knows they could talk all night and if she fell asleep she’d wake up in a warm bed all tucked up even if that meant he himself had to sleep on the floor and there'd be a glass of ice cold water waiting for her in the morning because he knows how much she hates waking up with a dry mouth and how gross she finds it when he kisses her before she’s been able to get rid of it. Not that they do much kissing anymore. Or any kissing really. And _especially_ not the kind of kissing that occurs first thing in the morning after waking up together. 

She shivers, but she knows it isn't because she's cold. 

“Did we really drink all of that?” She asks, and she hates how her voice cracks because of all the thoughts she's still thinking but she forces a grin onto her face and raises an eyebrow all the same because she doesn't want to talk about it and she knows Oliver will ask. 

He chuckles and picks up an empty bottle, turning it upside down. A single drop of wine drips onto the grey training mat. “I guess we did,” 

“Oops,” they both say at the same time. 

She knows she should feel more drunk than she does but being down here with him is a weird mixture of sobering and intoxicating all at the same time and she's not sure whether she likes the feeling or not. 

“You know? I think this was Curtis’ plan,” 

“What was?” 

“Getting us down here together with two bottles of wine,” Oliver laughs, putting the empty bottle back down and leaning over to take one of the uneaten prawn crackers from Felicity’s plate. 

Felicity shrugs and rolls her eyes in order to hide her shudder as his leg comes into contact with her bare foot as he moves, the fabric of his jeans riding up a little so her skin is directly on his. When he sits back down, he doesn't make an effort to move his leg back. Felicity doesn’t either. 

She _knows_ Oliver is right, that of course this was Curtis’ idea, but she also knows that either one of them could have made an excuse earlier. Said they had other things to do and couldn't stay long. She knows they'd both have been lying, but neither one of them would have ever called the other out for it, not anymore. It's just the way things are between them now. They make a lot of excuses not to spend time together alone and it's strange because they've never been like this before but they aren't the same people anymore. At least, they're not the same people anymore when they're alone together. 

But tonight is different. Tonight is good. Tonight it doesn't matter that they haven't been on the same page for awhile now. 

Tonight they just are. And what happens, happens. 

Not that she's expecting that anything will happen. Or hoping that it will. 

All she knows is that Oliver’s skin on hers feels heavenly and warm and she hadn't realised just how much she’s been missing him touching her until right now. He's so careful around her now. He doesn't linger anywhere. His arms stay folded over his chest when they talk most of the time or he stands across the other side of the room. Almost as though he's afraid to get too close in case he forgets who they are now and reaches out for her. 

She doesn't tell him that she reaches out for him too. Almost every night when she wakes up from a nightmare about Haven Rock. 

“Probably. But it's not like either of us put up much of a fight, is it? It’s not like he had to tie us up and force feed us noodles or anything,” Felicity replies, feeling like she's been in her head for hours since he spoke when really it's only been a few seconds. 

“Yeah, I'm really not sure I would appreciate Curtis tying me up and feeding me,” 

Felicity laughs at that. She wonders if he realises he emphasised the word _Curtis_ on purpose. As though he wouldn't mind if it was someone else. Looking at his face now as he grins at her, she knows that he did. She blushes. 

“Either you said that on purpose, or we’ve been spending too much time together lately and all of a sudden you're speaking in double entendres by accident. Which, by the way, is usually my speciality,” 

Oliver laughs but then his face falls. “I don't really think it's the latter,” 

Felicity’s heart clenches as he speaks because he’s using his soft voice, the voice he uses when he's opening up to her about something. And for one of the first times, Felicity can't use hers back. Because she doesn't know what to say. 

Except she does. She just doesn't know how to say it. 

She wants to apologise, for so much, she always does, but she knows she isn't ready yet and she doesn't fully understand what she's apologising for and she wants to figure that out before she says anything. So instead of saying sorry, she bites her tongue and drains her glass in 3 large gulps and then laughs when she pulls a face a hiccups. 

“It's probably not a good idea to suggest grabbing another bottle, right?” Felicity says, putting her empty glass down next to Oliver’s. She can't even remember when he finished his glass but seeing them standing next to each other like that with the tiniest remnants of red liquid in the bottom suddenly feels so domestic and intimate, like when they'd share a bottle over a movie back at the loft and leave the glasses on the table instead of in the dishwasher after getting... _distracted_ and heading up to bed much earlier than planned. 

She looks up, expecting Oliver to be watching her but he's staring at their glasses too and his cheeks are a little pinker than they were before and she wonders if somehow they're both thinking about the same thing or whether the wine has just finally caught up with him. She decides it's best for her sanity that she believes the latter option. Just to be on the safe side though, she says, 

“It's getting late. I should probably get going,” but even as she speaks, she makes no effort to get up. 

Oliver gets a look in his eye, like he's about to tell her to stay, only he never does. He's giving her space, always giving her space, and she's grateful, she really is, but sometimes she just wants him to ask her not to go. 

She doesn't want to go.

Oliver nods softly in response to her words but makes no effort to move either. They just look at each other, saying nothing. Saying everything. 

They do this dance so often and it always ends the same way. 

But tonight Felicity is full of liquid courage and she's sick of denying herself the one thing she wants more than anything in the world and she’s sick of missing him and she's sick of feeling sick about the way things are between them when he's always just _right there_ in front of her, waiting for her. 

She can have tonight. 

_They_ can have tonight. 

Felicity stands up and brushes crumbs from her jeans before holding her hand out to help Oliver up too. He takes her hand so willingly and she smiles.

“Actually, you know what? I think I _do_ want to try to salmon ladder. Will you help me?” 

She's still holding onto his hand. Or maybe he's holding onto hers. She isn't sure. She doesn't care. 

“Are you sure?” Oliver asks, even though he's already agreed to help her, she can see it in his smile. 

“Of course! Besides, I know you'll catch me if I fall,” 

She drops his hand then and turns around, heading over towards the huge metal piece of equipment that she's spent so many hours watching Oliver climb up and down. 

She pretends she can't hear him when he ever so softly whispers, “Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please leave me a comment! I find it super difficult to continue writing without encouragement from others and so every single comment means the absolute world to me!
> 
> Feel free to leave any prompts or questions for me on Tumblr! My ask is right [HERE](http://wetsuiton.tumblr.com/ask) and I'm on there everyday :)


	4. Out of place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Out Of Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had SO much fun writing this!! I was going to go a completely different way with this prompt but when I sat down to write, I had this idea and all of a sudden, this just happened. I hope you enjoy it! Please let me know what you think when you're done! :')

“Can you come and pick me up, please?” 

“Are you alright?” 

“No, Oliver, it's just not _fair_ ,” 

“Honey, talk to me. Why are you crying right now?” 

“I just wanted to have _fun_ tonight and now I'm sitting in the bathroom crying and hoping no one finds me because then that would mean having to go back out there and I'm not sure I can do that because-” 

“Felicity, where are you? Are you drunk? You sound drunk,” 

“Of _course_ I'm drunk. I'm very drunk. I _had_ to get very drunk to get through… _that_. Everyone is just so pretty, Oliver. And all the girls have abs and long legs and perfect boobs and look like they could pick me up and throw me across the room without even breaking a sweat and I'm-” 

“Wait, wait. Hold up. Where are you?” 

“A strip club,” 

… 

“What are you doing at a strip club?”

“It was Sara’s idea! One minute I’m enjoying cocktails in this really nice bar with her and Nyssa and the next, she's suggesting we go to a strip club and I didn't really think too much about it because I was already 4 cocktails in and I thought it would be fun but after watching those girls dance for like 15 minutes, I'm really regretting agreeing to this because I feel _soooooo_ out of place out there and I'm also regretting the shot of whisky I was handed on the door because I think that's what’s making me cry so much and now all my makeup-” 

“Felicity… what exactly are you crying for?”

“Because all those girls are just- they're _so pretty_! And so _strong_. And so _hot_ with perfect bodies and perfect hair and- Oliver, you should _see_ them, they're- actually wait, no, I'm glad you haven't seen them. It would kind of worry me if you saw them because they're so _pretty_ and they have these perfect butts and did I mention that they have abs? Like actual abs? Not as good as your abs but like, _they have abs, Oliver_ ,” 

“Yeah, I got that, about the abs. But I'm still struggling to understand why that is making you so upset, honey,” 

“Should _I_ have abs?” 

“What?” 

“Like should I workout more? Am I fat? Am I-” 

“Felicity. Stop talking right now,” 

“You know I really struggle to do that,” 

“I know but I'm really going to need you to stop talking right now before you say anything else that's completely ridiculous like that,” 

“But I just- I feel like I- I just don’t know why-” 

“You don't know why, what?” 

“Wouldn't you rather be with someone who has abs? Someone more like you who can squat twice their own body weight or lift things above their heads? Someone who likes working out and-” 

“Remember what I said about you stopping talking? That still stands,” 

“I just can't stop thinking about how _perfect_ they are, Oliver,” 

“Felicity Smoak-Queen, _you_ are perfect,” 

“No, I'm not,” 

“You _are_ ,” 

“I'm not!” 

“I will have this argument with you all night, you know? I can be extremely stubborn,” 

“I know. But I just-” 

“Felicity, listen to me. I truly do not care in the slightest whether or not you have abs. Trust me,” 

“But would you like me more if I did?” 

“I would like you more right now if you'd stop asking me questions like that. As though there's anything that could make me love you more than I already do. You're perfect. I love every single thing about you. You know that. You _know_ how I feel about you. I _married_ you. Remember?” 

“I know. I remember,” 

“Do you think that if I cared about you looking like one of those strippers you seem to be obsessed with that much that I would have still married you? Honestly?” 

… 

“Felicity?” 

“Okay _fine_. Probably not. You would have just married an actual stripper,” 

“Exactly,” 

“You know? You could probably actually _be_ a stripper if you wanted? I think you'd do a great job,” 

“I wouldn’t want to take off my clothes in front of anyone who isn't you,”

“Good. I'm glad you like taking your clothes off in front of me. It's nice. Really nice,” 

“Of course. Are you feeling better?” 

“A little,” 

“Have you stopped crying?” 

“Almost,” 

“Do you want me to come and pick you up still?” 

“Yes. Please. I'm too drunk and my makeup is a mess now and I really just want to see you naked so I'll feel better,”

“I’m sorry, Felicity. There will be no nakedness if you're drunk,” 

“Not even just like, a little bit?” 

“Okay maybe a little bit. I'll take off my shirt and cuddle you,” 

“But I don't just want a _cuddle_ , Oliver. I just told you that you'd make a really great stripper and all you want to do is _cuddle_?” 

… 

“Why are you laughing? This isn't funny? Do I have to start crying again for you to give me what I want?” 

“Even if you start crying again, it won't happen, I’m sorry,” 

“ _Uggggggh_ do you _have_ to be so nice and respectful all the time?!” 

“Yes,” 

“Fine. The shirtless cuddling will have to do. Can you please come and pick me up now?” 

“I'm on my way,” 

“Thank you,”

“I'm gonna stay on the phone with you until I get there, okay?”

“Okay,”

…

“Oliver?” 

“Yes?” 

“Thank you for telling me I don't need abs,” 

“You're welcome,” 

“Thank you for marrying me, as well,” 

“It was my pleasure,” 

“Oliver?” 

“Yes, Felicity?” 

“I love you,” 

“I love you too,” 

… 

“Oliver?” 

“Yes?”

“Please don't become a stripper,” 

“I won't,” 

“But you _will_ strip for me one day, right? When I'm not drunk?”

“Okay,” 

“Thanks… Oliver?”

“Yeah?”

I won't still be drunk tomorrow, will I?” 

“Nope,”

“Good,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please leave me a comment! I find it super difficult to continue writing without encouragement from others and so every single comment means the absolute world to me!
> 
> Feel free to leave any prompts or questions for me on Tumblr! My ask is right [HERE](http://wetsuiton.tumblr.com/ask) and I'm on there everyday :)


	5. Unintentional Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: unintentional discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This started out light and funny and ended up kind of deep in feels. But what's new, right? 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this! Please let me know what you think!

This was not how Felicity had intended on her Friday night ending. She had planned to get home early, take a bubble bath, read a book with a glass of wine and then maybe actually get more than 5 hours of sleep for once. And up until 30 minutes ago, things had been going exactly to plan. She had not however, planned for this… _intruder_. Okay, so intruder was maybe too strong a word. It was a spider. Just a spider. But it was in her _bed_ and it was _looking at her_. Or maybe that was just the wine talking. Either way, there was still a spider in her bed, looking at her or otherwise. It made her shudder to think about how close she’d been to not even noticing it, to actually climbing into bed and falling asleep _next_ to it. 

She’d lived alone for a lot of her life and she knew she should be used to this kind of thing. But this spider was _huge_. And did she mention that it was _in her bed?_ Spiders in the shower she could deal with. Spiders in the sink she could deal with. Spiders on the floor she could also deal with. But spiders in her bed? Nope. No way. _Totally_ not dealing with it. 

She’d faced off with the spider for at least 30 minutes trying to assess the best way to deal with the situation (yes, it was officially a _situation_ ) that didn't include sleeping on the couch or you know, moving out. But it didn't matter how many times she reminded herself that she was a strong independent women who had literally faced up to Ra’s Al Ghul and Damien Dahrk, she could _absolutely not_ get this spider out of her bed. And even if she did manage to get it out of her bed, could she really sleep in it afterwards? What if all its little spider friends decided to check out the scene whilst she was asleep? What if she woke up and there was one, or _ten_ , on her face? 

Nope, absolutely not dealing with this. 

She was close to tears and/or packing a bag and booking into a hotel for the night when she remembered that she didn't technically have to deal with this on her own anymore. This or any other situation that she didn't really want to be in on her own. Because she and Oliver were - how had he put it? “Hypothetically dating” again. Which meant that she could call him and ask _him_ to deal with this.

Deep down she was well aware that even if things between them hadn't changed, she could have still called Oliver at anytime for _anything_ and he would have come over straight away. But she hadn't. She couldn't let herself. Because letting him in once would have just made her brain and body forget why she was keeping her distance in the first place. 

But she didn't have to worry about that anymore. Because things between them were finally in a good place again. They were taking things slowly, but that was okay; it's what they both wanted. Felicity wasn't sure that calling Oliver over to her apartment at 2 in the morning fell into the category of taking things slowly, but what other option did she have? Besides, he was just coming over to deal with the spider situation and that was all. 

_It was._

She took out her phone and composed a text, praying that he hadn't gone to bed yet. 

_Hey, are you up? There’s an… intruder in my apartment and I need you to help me get it out. The 8 legged kind._

_F x_

Barely 5 seconds later, her phone rang. 

“Felicity?! Are you okay?!” 

“Oh my gosh, Oliver, I'm fine! Can't you understand a little humour in a text message?” 

“What? Are you hurt? I read that there was an intruder in your apartment and I called you straight away. Where are you? Have you-” 

“I'm _fine_. Didn’t you read the rest of the text?” 

“Felicity. Would you have taken time to finish reading a text message if someone you cared about had told you they were in danger?” 

He had a point. She probably wouldn't. She would have just freaked out, which was exactly what he had done. 

“You're right. I'm sorry I made you panic. But honestly, I'm fine. Well, I'm not _fine_ but physically I am and there isn't _really_ an intruder in my apartment. There's just - this is going to sound really lame, okay? So I need you to promise not to laugh at me?” 

“I'll promise not to laugh at you when my heart rate has returned to normal,” Oliver replied, but she could hear him smiling. 

“Okay, so you know how I hate bugs and stuff?” 

“Yeah,”

“Well there's one in my bed right now. With 8 legs. And we just spent the last half an hour staring at each other to see who would be the first to back down and since I'm here calling you right now, I lost. And like I said, I know this is lame and I'm a strong independent woman but it's 2am and I've had a few glasses of wine and I just _really_ am not capable of dealing with this right now so what I'm calling for is to ask you if you could come over and help me get rid of it, please? And then help me change my sheets and vacuum every corner of my bedroom just in case any of its little spider friends are lurking nearby? I know it's super late but-

“I'll be over in 5 minutes.” 

Felicity smiled. 

*

True to to his word, 5 minutes later, Oliver knocked on her door. 

“Hey, I'm so sorry for calling you over just to deal with this. My feminist ego feels severely bruised right now so please don't make this any worse for me. And by that I mean _please_ don't tell anyone about this. Especially Thea. Or Dinah. I literally couldn't take the judgement from the two strongest women I know,” she babbled, letting him into the apartment. 

Oliver laughed and dropped his jacket on the couch. For some reason, watching him do that made Felicity’s stomach flutter. It just looked so _natural_. Like he used to do it before. Like he’d been coming home and doing that everyday for years. 

It had never mattered to either of them that there was a coat rack right _there_ by the door because every night, they'd drop their jackets on the couch anyway and whoever woke up first the next morning would hang them up on the rack. It was just how it always worked out. Felicity used to measure how stressful her day had been by whether or not her coat made it onto the rack. If it did, that meant she was stressed out or wasn't thinking straight. 

Ever since Oliver had moved out, she’d always hung up her jacket on the rack. 

Suddenly aware that Oliver was looking at her expectantly, as though he had asked a question that she hadn't heard, she laughed awkwardly and wrapped her arms around herself. She had not expected this spider fiasco to make her feel like _this_. 

“Sorry, did you say something?” She asked, trying to sound casual but not at all missing the way Oliver’s eyes started to worry. 

“Yeah, I asked you how you want to go about this; vacuum or the old paper under a cup trick? But you look like you're a million miles away. Are you alright?” 

Felicity shrugged. “Yup.” 

Oliver tilted his head, a questioning look on his face. 

“Lets deal with the spider and then we’ll talk, okay? I can't think about anything knowing that _beast_ is waiting for me upstairs,” Felicity laughed awkwardly, pushing her emotions to the side for the time being. They would talk. That's what they did now. They talked about things. About everything. But first… the spider really needed putting in its place. 

Oliver smiled, and she could see on his face that he believed her. Her knew too that they'd talk about this later. She smiled back. 

“So? Vacuum or paper under a cup?” Oliver asked, his face suddenly serious. 

“I don't care. As long as I don't have to be anywhere near the thing, you can do what you like. And if you're using the vacuum, you're emptying it. Because emptying it scares me more than sucking it up. So um, yeah. Your choice,” 

“How about we go and assess the situation first? I need to see how big this _beast_ is before I decide which method to use to exterminate it,” 

Felicity laughed and then blushed, realising for the first time that night that Oliver was going to be in their - in _her_ \- bedroom again. “Lead the way.” 

*

It took them an hour to completely address the situation. In the end, Oliver went with the paper under a cup trick, declaring that the spider wasn't even _that big_ so the vacuum cleaner wouldn't be needed. Felicity had pretended to be insulted for 15 minutes after that, sitting across the room with her arms crossed and making bratty remarks every now and then about how big he didn't think the massively massive _beast_ was. Especially when on his first attempt with the cup the spider started to crawl out and Oliver almost jumped out of his skin trying to get it firmly under the cup again. Felicity had a lot of fun after that reminding him how _not big_ it was. 

After he’d apologised for offending her, telling her that maybe it was a little bigger than he’d first assumed, he helped her change the sheets and then helped her check every corner of the bedroom in case there were any others lurking around. Thankfully, there weren't. And thankfully, him helping her change the sheets didn't cause as many feelings to crash into her chest as seeing his jacket on her couch had done. Although, there were definitely a few feelings all the same, even if she did manage to keep them under control for the most part. She didn't miss how normal it felt when he opened the closet and took out some clean sheets without even having to be asked. Nor did she miss how _nice_ it felt to have someone help her do such a boring task. As they worked, they talked about nonsensical things and teased each other about the night’s events and by the time the bedroom was back to normal, they were both in fits of laughter. 

She had never expected eliminating a spider to be fun, but that's exactly what this had turned out to be. 

Suddenly realising that it was gone 3 in the morning and _way_ past the time when she had planned to be asleep tonight, Felicity sat down on the edge of the bed, exhausted. A slightly awkward silence fell over them where neither really knew what to say. 

Oliver cleared his throat. “I should probably get going.” 

“Wait, don't you want to talk? We said we were going to talk?” Felicity replied, sounding slightly more desperate than she’d expected. Now that Oliver was here, she just really didn't want him to go. And any second now she knew the effects of the wine she’d drunk tonight would wear off and then she’d never get to tell him what was on her mind. 

“You just look tired so I figured I'd just -” 

“I’m not tired! Sit down. Let's talk. Please,” she smiled, gesturing for Oliver to join her on the bed. 

He hesitated, looking uncomfortable again, like all of a sudden _he_ was aware that he hadn't been in her bedroom in a _long_ time before tonight. Felicity laughed.

“Oliver, sit down. It's not like this is the first time you've ever been in my bed. This used to be _our_ bed, remember?” 

Chuckling, Oliver sat down on the opposite side of the bed. _His side_. “I remember.” 

Felicity tried to smile at him but it got caught in the back of her throat once she started remembering all the times they'd shared this bed. She was the one who suggested they take things slowly this time but right then she was all for throwing caution to the wind and asking him to move back in with her. Because she missed this being _their_ place, _their_ room, _their_ bed. She didn't want it to be just hers anymore. 

Finally, _finally_ , finding her smile, Felicity looked up at Oliver. “So… this talk?” 

“Yeah. I just - I wondered where you went earlier. Downstairs when I arrived. Because you really did look like you went somewhere else. And I still can't figure out whether it was a good thing or not,” 

His voice was soft, so soft, the voice he used when he was making himself completely vulnerable and opening up to her. Her heart fluttered in her chest. 

“I just went… back. Seeing you drop your jacket on the couch like that - it just reminded me of before. Before… _everything_. It was like nothing had changed and we were who we used to be and I guess it just caught me off guard. I wasn't expecting to react so strongly to you doing something so small, that's all. So it took me by surprise. And then I couldn't stop thinking about it and… yeah. That was the look on my face you saw. That's where I went.” 

Oliver smiled as she spoke, his eyes so soft and warm. He listened so intently, he always did, and it gave her goosebumps. 

“Maybe I'll just keep my jacket on next time?” He teased, but the smile on his face was nothing but sincere. 

“It's not that,” Felicity said quickly, knowing that he was joking but not wanting him to. “I was just surprised at how normal it felt. How normal all of _this_ feels. I didn't expect it to be like this so soon after everything that happened. I don't know what I expected but it just - it isn't this.” 

Oliver smiled again, meeting her eyes, and the expression on his face made every inch of her body feel warm. He hadn't looked at her like this for a long time. Even towards the end of their relationship last time, there had been _something_ hanging over him, wearing him down. Knowing now what it was, everything out in the open, seeing him smiling at her like this was almost too much. She looked away, afraid that if she kept looking at him, she’d say something stupid. Something she didn't know whether she was ready to say again yet. 

“I didn't expect it to feel like this either. Or rather, I didn't expect to be sitting here hearing you say these things. Nothing about the way I feel about you has changed and I'm sure you know that, but I didn't expect you to talk to me like this, to look at me like this, for a long time yet,” Oliver said, still smiling, looking so relaxed and calm and happy there with her. 

She smiled back. “What I said still stands. I still want to take things slowly this time. We went through… _a lot_. And I don't want to pretend we didn't. That's not fair on either of us. But this is nice. This is good.” She paused, meeting his eyes again. “I'm happy, Oliver.” 

She reached out her hand, offering it to him from their own sides of the bed and he took it so willingly, his smile only growing wider but also softer at the same time. She intertwined her fingers with his and then let their hands drop down onto the bed, still wrapped together. They both stared at their hands for a long time. Or maybe it was seconds. Felicity couldn't tell. After awhile she grinned and said, 

“I never thought I'd say this but I'm _so glad_ that spider decided to creep into my bed tonight,” 

Laughing, Oliver squeezed her hand. “So am I. That unintentional discovery made for a great evening.” 

“It's gone 3 in the morning, Oliver. We are so far past this evening that it's practically _tomorrow_ evening,” 

“I guess I really should get going. I have to be at the office at 9am anyway,” 

“Why didn't you tell me that? I just assumed that since it was Saturday you'd have the day off tomorrow! I feel so bad for keeping you up now! I feel so bad for asking you to help me with something so stupid!” 

“Felicity, how many times do I have to say this? If it's you asking, I'll do it. No matter what.” 

Felicity softened at his words and found herself subconsciously stroking the back of his hand with her thumb. 

“Do you want to stay?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Tonight. Do you want to stay? It's just so late and by the time you get home it will be even later and I just wondered if you wanted to stay. You can sleep on the couch if you want. I just feel bad asking you to come all the way over here when you have to be up so early and the least I can do to thank you for tonight is make you a tea and let you stay over,” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Of course I'm sure.” 

“Okay then. I'll stay,” 

“Okay. And I know I said you can sleep on the couch but you don't have to. If you don't want to. I mean, there's plenty of room up here for both of us.” 

She was babbling now, she knew she was, but she couldn't help it. Oliver smiled. 

“It's probably best if I take the couch,” 

Despite herself, she felt relieved at his words. She sighed. “You're probably right.” 

Chuckling softly to himself, Oliver squeezed her hand again once more before letting go and standing up. “I'll just…” he gestured to the bathroom. 

“Of course! Make yourself at home. There's a bunch of brand new toothbrushes in the cabinet. Feel free to take a shower or whatever. I'll go grab some blankets and make up the couch for you,” she smiled, heading for the door. 

Before she could leave the room, Oliver said, 

“Felicity?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Thank you. For tonight. For… _everything_.” 

She smiled, her heart fluttering again. 

“You're welcome. Thank you too. For coming over and helping me deal with the intruder,” 

“Anytime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please leave me a comment! I find it super difficult to continue writing without encouragement from others and so every single comment means the absolute world to me!
> 
> Feel free to leave any prompts or questions for me on Tumblr! My ask is right [HERE](http://wetsuiton.tumblr.com/ask) and I'm on there everyday :)


	6. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was super fun to write :) Let me know what you think!

“Oliver, you would sound a whole lot more sexy and convincing asking me to take my clothes off and join you in bed right now if you hadn't sneezed three times whilst asking,” 

“I can ask without sneezing!” 

“Okay, go ahead. No sniffling or coughing either,” 

“That's not fair,” 

“Neither would you giving me all your germs just because you can't wait a couple more days to get over this cold before we have sex,” 

“Okay fine. No sex. We could just make out for a bit?” 

“No. No making out or anything. I'm sorry, Oliver, but one, I don't want your cold and two, you really need to rest,” 

“I’m fine, actually,” 

“You're not fine, you have a serious fever,”

“It’s just because I’m so hot you can’t handle this,” 

“Again, that would have sounded sexier if you hadn't sniffled halfway through and no, this is like hospital level fever. If I didn't know you better, I'd be calling 911 right now. So lie down, close your eyes and let me go make you some tea,” 

“I can't sleep if you're not here,” 

“Oliver, I'm going to be right downstairs. I have to work. I already took the day off to look after you,” 

…

“Don't look at me like that please,”

…

“Okay, fine! I'll go make you a tea and bring you some fruit and then I'll work up here. But I'm sitting over there and you're not going to talk to me, you're going to sleep,” 

“Fruit?” 

“Antioxidants. You need to boost your immune system if you ever want to get better,” 

“I hate fruit,” 

“Now you know how I feel when you offer to make me lunch just so you can sneak vegetables into it,” 

“I do not do that,” 

“You do, and you know it,” 

“Forgive me for wanting you to live a long and healthy life,” 

“And _you_ forgive _me_ for wanting you to actually get better sometime soon. Because as much as I firmly stand against not coming near you whilst you're this sick, I miss the sex and the making out just as much as you do,” 

…

“What was that?” 

“My phone. I have to go down to the bunker,” 

“Why didn't I get a message?”

“Because I turned off your notifications. Stay there, I'll be back in an hour,” 

“I'm coming with you,” 

“Oliver, it’s just a break in. Nothing the team can't handle,” 

“If they can handle it then why do they need you?” 

“They probably don't. I just want to make sure everything is okay,” 

“Give me 2 minutes to get dressed and I'll-” 

“Oliver Jonas Queen, get back in bed right now before I come over there and make you get in there myself,” 

…

“That was not an invitation by the way. That was me being angry and absolutely done with you pretending you're not sick when your temperature is 103,” 

“Felicity, I feel fine. Maybe some fresh air is what I need,” 

“What you need is to stop arguing with me. Get back in bed,” 

“You're so cute when you're angry,” 

…

“Okay, fine. I'm sorry. I'm getting back in bed,” 

“Good. If I find you out of that bed when I get back I swear to god, we’re not having sex for the rest of the month, cold or no cold,” 

“You wouldn't last that long,” 

“You seem to remember how long I was single before I met you. I'd be fine,” 

“Before you met me you didn't know how good it could be,” 

“Shut up and go to sleep. I'll see you in an hour,” 

“Promise me you'll call if you need me,” 

“We won't need you. But I promise,” 

“Love you,” 

“I love you too,” 

“I’m sorry for making you mad,” 

“Thank you. I'm sorry for yelling at you,” 

… 

“Felicity?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Can you pick up some more tissues on the way back, please?” 

“More? I bought three boxes yesterday!” 

“I used them already,” 

“You're so gross,” 

“Love you too, honey,” 

 

_(Later that night)_

 

“I thought you were only going to be an hour?” 

“I underestimated a little,”

“I also thought you said you weren't coming near me whilst I was sick,” 

“Yeah well, it's freezing out there and you're burning up like a furnace so I'll take my chances if it means I can be warm,” 

“Did everything go okay?” 

“Everything was fine,” 

…

“Felicity?” 

“Okay so it wasn't as straightforward as we thought it was going to be. John and Dinah got a little hurt. But they're fine! Nothing a few stitches couldn't solve. I was worried for a little while because the comms and power went down in the building they were in and I couldn't hear them or see them. I felt pretty helpless just sitting there at my computer not being able to tell if they were okay. But they're fine, it's all fine. It happens sometimes,” 

“Don't just shrug it off, Felicity. Why didn't you call me?”

“Because we had it under control. It just took a little longer, that's all. And there was no point in worrying you when you were probably finally sleeping for the first time in 24 hours,” 

“I didn't sleep. I can't sleep unless you're here. I don't feel safe unless you're here,” 

“I know. And I'm here now, so take comfort in that and close your eyes. I'll be right here when you wake up,”

“Didn't you have work to do?”

“Yeah. But it's fine. You're more important,” 

“I'm sorry you had to take the day off,” 

“Don't be. In a weird way, it's been nice to spend a Tuesday out of the office. Maybe I should start taking one day during the week off every week?” 

“You're the CEO. If that's what you want to do, you should,” 

“Hmmm, maybe. We’ll talk about it another day. Get some sleep,” 

“Okay. I love you,” 

“Love you too,” 

… 

“Oliver? Could you maybe face the other way though, so you're not breathing directly onto my face, please?” 

“You're so romantic,” 

“And that's why you love me,” 

…

“As sorry as I am that you're sick, I'm so glad you weren't out there today. I would have lost my mind worrying about you. The 10 minutes I had no communication with the team was the worst but at least I knew you were safe,” 

“I'm sorry you had to worry so much,” 

“It's just part of what we do. Isn't that what you always tell me?” 

“It is,” 

“Anyway, you really should get some sleep. I'm going to stop talking now,” 

“It's okay, I like hearing your voice,”

“Oliver…” 

“Okay, fine, fine. I'm going to sleep,” 

“Good,” 

…

“Oliver?” 

“Yeah?”

“I love you,” 

“I love you too,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please leave me a comment! I find it super difficult to continue writing without encouragement from others and so every single comment means the absolute world to me!
> 
> Feel free to leave any prompts or questions for me on Tumblr! My ask is right [HERE](http://wetsuiton.tumblr.com/ask) and I'm on there everyday :)


	7. One More Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: One more time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter follows on from the week 6 prompt, Unintentional Discovery which you can read [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11084547/chapters/25453908) :) 
> 
> Please let me know what you think when you're done!

When Felicity awoke the next morning to sweet smells drifting up the stairs and quiet music playing, she smiled. 

She knew Oliver was already up and she didn't miss how wonderful it made her feel to know that he was downstairs and had stayed the night and that everything that had happened at 3am really hadn't been just a dream. She sat up in bed, still smiling, thinking about how she just couldn't wait until she was waking up this way everyday again, ignoring the voice in the back of her mind reminding her that they said they were going to take things slowly this time. She knew they were, and they would, but she also wasn't going to deny herself this feeling, this hope that she hadn't let herself cling to for a really long time. 

Standing up and reaching for her glasses from the bedstand, Felicity walked over to the bathroom to quickly brush her teeth before heading downstairs, not even bothering to change out of the shorts and t-shirt that she’d worn to bed.

Oliver had his back to her, standing at the stove, pouring some mixture into a pan. She took a moment to just admire the sight of him standing there, completely unaware that she was up, half swaying to the music as he cooked. She smiled, feeling her cheeks flush slightly. He looked good, _so_ good. She’d missed waking up to this, to him, _so_ much. 

"What are you up to?" She asked as she made her way over to the kitchen, skipping the good morning pleasantries all together, her brain already completely in a twist just from seeing him in her kitchen. She wondered how she’d ever got anything done before. If she’d ever get anything done again. 

"Making breakfast." 

Felicity smiled softly and tried to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. Seeing Oliver in the kitchen, a sight she'd woken up to so many times before but also never quite like this, was really stirring up a lot of feelings inside her. He was moving around her kitchen like he always used to, like it was his home. _Their_ home. 

“And good morning to you too,” he added, a teasing smile on his face. 

"I thought you had to work today?" She asked, ignoring the blush that was definitely forming on her cheeks, hopping onto a barstool at the breakfast table and trying to act casual despite the whirlwind of emotions that were occurring inside her. 

"I did. But I figured I'd take the morning off," Oliver replied, leaning against the counter and smiling at her. 

"And then stay at your office until midnight tonight to make up for lost time?"

"You know me too well." 

Felicity smiled back. "Remember last year when I wanted more team members and you didn't? Who would have your back and go out on the streets when you want to be irresponsible with your day job and end up stuck at your office if I'd listened to you back then?" 

Chuckling, Oliver turned back to the stove.

"However, I'll take you having the morning off work and won't say 'I told you so' about the team, again, if it means I get to eat whatever it is that smells so good over there.”

“Pancakes. The real kind. Not the kind that comes in a bottle I found in your cupboard earlier when I was looking for flour.” 

“Hey! Don't insult it. That pancake mix is delicious. And _very_ good during hangovers. _And_ , it takes like 2 minutes to cook. It's magic, I swear.” 

“I'm sure you'll forget all about it once you've had my pancakes again.” 

Felicity didn't know what to say to that. She was sure he was right, there was no question about that, but all of a sudden she was thinking about the last time he’d made her pancakes and how different their lives had been then. 

The last time he’d made her pancakes was over a year ago, before she’d had the miracle chip in her spine, and she’d woken up feeling particularly crap about all the things she just couldn't do anymore. Back then, she’d adopted a mostly positive attitude towards her life since there was seemingly absolutely nothing she could do about it, but she wasn't a robot and she also wasn't about denying herself the opportunity to cry and feel sorry for herself every now and then. It was only human. 

Oliver had been asleep when she’d woken up and he’d looked so peaceful and serene lying next to her that she just couldn't bear to wake him. She’d sat up and watched him sleeping for a few long minutes, thinking about everything they’d been through recently, about all the times she’d expected him to leave her, about all the times he’d stayed no matter what, and then all of a sudden there’d been tears in her eyes and she’d been unable to stop herself from crying. 

She’d tried to get herself out of bed and into her chair quietly so she could go into the bathroom and cry without waking Oliver because he’d been working so much lately and he deserved to sleep in a little, but she’d knocked the bedside table as she reached over and two candles had clattered to the floor. She’d tried to catch them but hadn't been quick enough and Oliver had woken with a start, calling her name in a panic, automatically reaching out for her as though she was hurt. 

But she wasn't hurt, of course. Only her dignity was. 

“Felicity?! Are you okay?!” 

“I'm fine, I just- I knocked some candles over getting out of bed. It's fine, you can go back to sleep,” 

She hadn't been able to stop the angry blush that had crept onto her face. Why couldn't she just do _anything_ by herself without somehow making things worse? She’d just wanted to get up and go to the bathroom but she couldn't even do something as simple as that anymore. Anger and humiliation flared up inside her and overpowered any feelings of self pity she’d been experiencing before. This was _her_ fault. It was _all her fault_ , and she had no right feeling sorry for herself. 

“Why didn't you wake me up? I could have helped you.” 

She’d known he was only trying to be nice to her, he was always asking her if there was anything he could do to help make things easier for her, but in her current state of emotions, his question had done nothing but make her even more angry inside. 

“If I wanted your help, I would have _asked_ for it,” she’d snapped, turning away from him so he couldn't see her crying. 

But he’d known she was upset, of course he had. He could always tell. 

“Hey, what's wrong?” 

“How long do you have?!” She’d replied angrily, rhetorically, still not looking at him, not even knowing anymore who she was mad at, him or herself. 

He hadn't said anything then, but she’d heard him get up out of bed and cross the room towards her. She hadn't even had the energy to push him away when he’d crouched down in front of her and taken her hand. 

“Talk to me. Please. Tell me what's going on.” 

“It's nothing. I’m just feeling sorry for myself.” 

“And you have every right to feel that way if you want to. You know that, right?” 

She remembered thinking then how great he was, how incredible he was, how every single day he made her feel like a better person, and it had only made her cry even more. 

“Oliver, why do you stay with me?” She’d asked, unable to stop the question falling from her lips, the question she’d only thought to herself a million times since she’d literally lost the ability to walk and do nearly all of the things she used to do without even thinking about it. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“I mean it, why do you stay with me? Why don't you just leave?” 

“Felicity…” He’d whispered her name so softly, so softly she could feel it. “I couldn't live without you.” 

She’d laughed, except it hadn't been a laugh, not really, thinking about how ridiculous he’d sounded then. Oliver Queen had been through hell and back a thousand times over and he was the strongest person she’d ever met in her life. There wasn't anyone on earth who he needed, least of all being her. 

He’d seemed to read her mind without her even having to speak because he’d taken her other hand in his so he was holding onto both of them and met her eyes. 

“I love you. My life is better because you're in it. It has been from the moment I met you. And hearing you speak like this, knowing what you're thinking… I wish I could make you see how lost I'd be without you. How much you bring to my life. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Felicity.” 

“Before, maybe. But what about now? I can't do _anything_ , Oliver. And I know we’ve been over this a hundred times, about how my superpower is in mind and I believe you, I do, but I- I just… I hate this. I hate not being able to do anything. I hate not being able to just get up in a morning and have a shower without having to ask for help. Almost everything that I used to do without thinking twice about, I now have to ask for help with and it's nearly always you who has to help me and I just- it's not _fair_. It's not fair on you. You shouldn't have to look after me the way you do. It's not what you signed up for when we decided to be together.” 

“What I signed up for is to be with you, someone who makes my life better, no matter what. This-” He’d pointed to the engagement ring on her finger. “This ring means that we stay together and work things out. For better or for worse, remember?” 

Felicity had smiled at that, despite herself. “You said that to me in the hospital. I kind of thought I'd imagined it at the time because I was on so many pain meds and was still half asleep from the anaesthetic.” 

Oliver had smiled back, reaching up to wipe a tear from her cheek. “You didn't imagine it.” 

She’d leaned into his hand, pressing her cheek against his palm and closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. There had been so much going on inside her head, so many conflicting emotions and feelings, but right then, they hadn't mattered. Oliver loved her. She didn't know why, and she probably never would, but she knew that he did. Despite everything. 

“I’m sorry,” she’d whispered. “I'm sorry for acting like this. Sometimes I just remember how many people have left me during my life and it gets kind of hard to picture things working out any other way with anyone else. Especially now, when I'm… I do try not to let this get to me, but I can't help it sometimes, you know? And then I start blaming myself for everything and there's nothing anyone can say to make me feel differently and...” 

She’d shrugged, not needing to say anymore. She knew she didn't have to say anymore because the cycle she went through every now and then was exactly the same one Oliver went through on a weekly basis. Blaming himself for everything and taking everything out on himself and not listening to anyone when they tried to make him feel better. 

Oliver had leaned up and kissed her cheek gently, tucking her hair behind her ear and smiling softly at her. “You're perfect. I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

“If you ever feel like this again, please talk to me. So we can work through it together, okay?” 

“Okay. I'll try. I mean, I still feel like crap now but I'll get over it.” 

“If there's ever anything you need, even if you think it's the most stupid thing in the world, please ask me. All I ever want to do is help you, Felicity. I just want to make things better for you, in anyway I can.” 

Felicity had smiled at that, taking hold of his hand that was still pressed against her cheek and lacing her fingers through his. “You know what I would really like right now? Some of your speciality pancakes.” 

She’d definitely been trying to change the subject then, just wanting to push it to the back of her mind and move on with her day and she remembered feeling so grateful that Oliver had gone along with it, even if he too knew that she was just trying to divert the attention from her and ignore the fact that she’d got upset. She knew he’d only ask her a thousand times that day if she was feeling okay, even more than he usually did, but she hadn't minded. She’d just wanted to forget about it for now. 

“Coming right up,” He’d chuckled, kissing her softly on the lips. 

*

“Felicity?” 

Felicity looked up and saw Oliver watching her from the other side of the kitchen, a slightly worried expression on his face. She blushed, realising that she’d been in her head completely for god knows how long just then. 

She smiled sheepishly at him. “Sorry. I was just thinking about the last time you made me pancakes.” 

Oliver’s face fell, clearly remembering too. “Felicity…” 

“It's fine. That was a long time ago.” 

“But you're- You- I… never mind.” 

“Oliver, you know it freaks me out when you speak in sentence fragments. What's wrong?” 

“You were so scared back then that I’d leave you. You couldn't understand why I would want to stay with you. And now- Everything that's happened between us since then… You were right. You-” 

“Hey. You didn't leave. _I_ left. That was my decision. A decision I'm tired of talking about. What happened between us happened and it sucked but it's over, right? We aren't going to lie to each other anymore and we aren't walking away from anything, right?” 

Oliver smiled. “Right.” 

“Now hurry up with those pancakes. I'm starving,” she grinned, gesturing with her hands for him to turn around and keep cooking. 

Oliver chuckled and turned back to the stove. “I laid the table over there, by the way. I'll bring these over as soon as they're done.” 

Smiling, Felicity watched him for a few long seconds. She’d sat in this exact position watching him cook breakfast so many times, but somehow, right now it felt like the first time. She almost giggled as she watched him, letting herself feel that giddy excitement she’d been trying to hold back ever since they'd agreed to try their relationship again, not ever wanting to get her hopes up because she was too afraid that she wouldn't be able to survive again if things didn't work out. But right now, she didn't feel afraid at all. Right now she was sitting in her kitchen watching Oliver Queen cook her breakfast and there wasn't a single thing in the world that mattered besides that. 

She got up from her chair and headed over to the dining table, stopping in her tracks when she saw the way Oliver had set everything out. 

He’d clearly been up awhile because there were fresh flowers on the table that definitely hadn't been there before, a mix of all her favourites in all her favourite colours: Asters, Dahlias, Sunflowers, Freesias and Peonies. He’d bought fresh fruit too and filled the fruit bowl that really hadn't seen actual fruit for longer than she’d like to admit and had really just been used to store keys and spare change for the last year. He’d lit her favourite candle, set out two places each with a glass of fresh orange juice and he’d even turned on the radio to Felicity’s favourite station, the station that played Sunday morning songs everyday of the week. 

Felicity couldn't even help herself, her eyes welled up as she took in the table in front of her. She knew it was just breakfast, but Oliver had made it special, made it so much more than just breakfast, and she couldn't remember the last time anyone had done something like this for her. Oliver really knew, had always known, how to make her feel loved and full of worth and she was so grateful. So, so grateful. She’d spent a lot of time over the last year when things were getting much bigger than she’d ever imagined they would, when her grasp on right and wrong and reality had been slipping, trying to remember this feeling, the exact feeling she was experiencing right now. And so the sheer profoundness of this moment took her breath away. She doubted that Oliver had any idea how much this meant to her, and somehow that just made it even more special; he hadn't been trying to trigger anything inside her, hadn't been trying to prove anything or make her see anything, he was just making breakfast. _For_ her. For _them_. 

“Oliver, you really didn’t have to do this, you know?” 

“There are a lot of things I don't have to do but I do them anyway,” he smiled, as if on cue as he brought over a plate piled with pancakes and a bottle of maple syrup. 

“I'm serious.” 

“So am I.” Oliver replied as he passed her, dropping a quick kiss on her cheek before leaning down to put the pancakes on the table. 

Before he could sit down, Felicity grabbed his forearm. “Wait, Oliver. I-” 

She didn't get to speak any further though as suddenly Oliver’s lips were on hers and whatever she’d been going to say completely evaporated from her mind. They’d only shared a handful of kisses lately, since she’d kissed him in the heat of the moment on Lian Yu a couple of months ago, and she was still getting used to the fact that they could actually do this again and it didn't come with guilt or shame or regret. Not that she’d ever regretted kissing him, not _really_ , not even those few times last summer, nearly always after too many glasses of wine. But those kisses had been different. Those kisses had been we’re-not-together-but-I-miss-you kisses. Those kisses came with awkward silences the next day. 

Not anymore. 

Now they could kiss each other just because they wanted to and it was always okay. They weren't quite back on the level of kissing that they'd been on before when they were together, but that didn't matter, they weren't comparing this time to last time, they were starting afresh. 

Felicity felt Oliver’s warm hands on her lower back, his thumbs stroking the bare skin beneath her cropped shirt and smiled into him, trailing her own fingers along his forearms. She pulled back first. 

“What was that for?” She asked, slightly breathless. 

Oliver smiled. “Just in case,” he replied, echoing her words from that time on Lian Yu. 

“In case, what?” 

“In case I…” He shrugged and chuckled. “I have no idea. I just wanted to do that one more time. I've missed being able to do this. All of this. Make you breakfast and buy you flowers and-” 

“Kiss me.” 

“Yeah, and kiss you.” 

“No, I mean, kiss me one more time, Oliver. Please?” 

Oliver smiled, his eyes beaming into hers so warm and so soft and so happy. “Well. Since you asked so nicely…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please leave me a comment! I find it super difficult to continue writing without encouragement from others and so every single comment means the absolute world to me!
> 
> Feel free to leave any prompts or questions for me on Tumblr! My ask is right [HERE](http://wetsuiton.tumblr.com/ask) and I'm on there everyday :)


	8. Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Pride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little thing before this chapter! Imagine everything as canon except Oliver was never mayor. It's not massively important to the story but it's just how I pictured this in my head. 
> 
> I was going to go a completely different way with this but I went to Pride yesterday and I couldn't NOT write this after that. And especially after all the homophobic comments from a particular cast over the weekend... 
> 
> Please let me know what you think after you're done! I hope you enjoy this! :)

“Come on, get up, we have to get ready!”

“Get ready for what? It's Sunday. We always sleep in on Sundays. Come back to bed, please?”

“But Pride starts in 2 hours!” 

“You were really serious about going to that?”

“Of course! We have gay and bisexual friends, Oliver. We’re going to support and celebrate them and everyone else in this city!” 

“I know, and I get that but it's so…” 

“What?”

“Colourful.”

“It's called being happy and excited and joyful. You should try it sometime.” 

"I am happy and excited sometimes!" 

“When?” 

“When you ask me if I want to stay over?” 

“We live together. That isn't an excuse anymore. Oliver, what if your son grows up and realises he’s gay?” 

“Then I'd love and support him. Obviously.” 

“Exactly! So lets start now by attending the first Pride event this city has had. This is a _huge_ thing for Star City!” 

“You're really passionate and excited about this, aren't you?” 

“Of course! This is an amazing event for an amazing cause! Plus, it will be fun! There's live music and everything!” 

“Okay, the fact that you're so excited has persuaded me. And you're right, it's an amazing cause and we should support it. I just have one request, okay? No glitter.” 

…

“Don't make that face.” 

“I’m not making a face! I'm just disappointed because I bought glitter makeup especially for this occasion and I was-

“Felicity, you know how I feel about glitter.” 

“I don't know how many times I have to apologise for the engagement invites. I know I should have warned you about them. If I'd known they were going to have this much of an impact and make you grumpy about anything that sparkles ever since, I would have thrown them in the trash.” 

“Hey, I don't hate everything that sparkles. I love that silver dress you wore for my birthday last year.” 

“You liked that dress because it had a low neckline and was completely open at the back. And because you got to take me out of it when we got home. I'm not stupid.” 

“I also appreciated you _in_ the dress. You looked amazing.” 

“And _you_ will look amazing if you let me put glitter in your beard!” 

“Glitter in my beard?”

“Yes!” 

“Felicity, there is no way you are giving me a glittery beard.” 

“But it will look so cute! What are you so afraid of?” 

“Right now I'm afraid of you and your glittery ideas.”

“Okay, fine. No glitter beard. How about a temporary tattoo instead? Of the Pride flag. On your cheek or something.” 

“Um…” 

“Please, Oliver? I promise it will look so cute.” 

“That's what I'm worried about.” 

“Don't be so heterosexual about this! Just have some fun!” 

 

*

 

“You know, I'm glad I got the glitter beard in the end. It was worth it to see you get jealous when those guys came over and started flirting with me.” 

“I was not jealous. Because they weren't even flirting with you. They just complimented your beard, Oliver. It's not like they slipped their numbers into your jeans pocket or anything.” 

“Actually, one of them did give me his number. He said I had amazing eyes and that the glitter really brought out the blue in them.” 

“Yeah, well he was right. And he was being nice. Doesn't mean he was flirting with you.” 

“I can't believe you're actually jealous.” 

“I’m not jealous!” 

“Felicity, you literally came over whilst he was talking to me and grabbed my hand in the most obvious way. And then put on your sweetest voice and called me “babe”. You never call me babe. Ever. You just wanted him to know we were together.” 

“I want everyone to know we’re together! Because I love you and it makes me happy to tell people that you're-” 

“Nope. Don't try to cute your way out of this. It isn't going to work. You were jealous and you know it. Even Sara and Nyssa both asked me why you were so clingy and possessive all afternoon after that when you'd been perfectly happy dancing with them beforehand.” 

…

“Okay, fine. Maybe I was a little jealous. But only because you just _let_ him flirt with you! 

“In my defence, I didn't know he was flirting until he gave me his number.” 

“Right. Sure.” 

…

“What are you doing?” 

“I'm getting ready for bed.” 

“It’s 8pm. And we have to go down to the bunker soon anyway. You're not getting ready for bed. You're making a point.” 

“Yes. And the point I'm making is that no matter what, I come home to you every night. So you don't need to be jealous of anyone.”

“You didn't need to get half naked in the living room to make that point. You could have just made it with words.” 

“But isn't this way more effective?” 

“Mmmm, I guess. And I guess now that you're half naked and still look ridiculously cute covered in glitter, it would be a shame if we didn't head upstairs and take a shower, right? I mean, after all, you can hardly show up later tonight covered in glitter and colourful tattoos. The team would think you were insane. Or a slightly more cheerful impostor. Or both.” 

“Exactly. But we’re not going upstairs until you promise me that you’re not upset.” 

“I'm not upset.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I'm sure. And I'm sorry if I acted weird this afternoon. I just- actually, never mind. Lets just go upstairs.” 

“Wait, what were you going to say?” 

“It doesn't matter.” 

“Yes it does. Talk to me.” 

“Look, I was just going to say that I watched you with other people for a long time. For like 3 years. It sucked. And then I had you and then I didn't and now I do again and I just… I trust you and I know you'd never leave me or hurt me or anything again, I just hate to think about you with anyone else. No matter who they are. And so sometimes that makes me act like a jerk. It always has and I'm only just becoming aware of it. So I just wanted to say that I'm sorry about that.”

“Felicity…” 

“Don't. You don't have to say anything. I don't want you to make excuses for me. Just say you accept my apology and lets go take a shower.” 

...

“I love you, you know that?” 

“I love you too.” 

“We’re gonna talk about this later.” 

“We don't-” 

“We do. But right now I just want to take you upstairs and prove to you over and over that you're the only person I will ever want for the rest of my life.” 

…

“That sounds like fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please leave me a comment! I find it super difficult to continue writing without encouragement from others and so every single comment means the absolute world to me!
> 
> Feel free to leave any prompts or questions for me on Tumblr! My ask is right [HERE](http://wetsuiton.tumblr.com/ask) and I'm on there everyday :)


	9. Late To The Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Late to the party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this! Please let me know what you think once you're done! :')

“Felicity, are you ready? We should have left 5 minutes ago.” 

“Would you stop asking me that? If I was ready, we’d be in the car. I'm already aware of how late we are so please stop reminding me because it's really not helping.” 

“Are you okay? Do you need some help?” 

“I'm _fine_. The more you talk to me, the longer I'm going to be so please just give me five more minutes and I'll be done.” 

…

“Are you ready, hon?” 

…

“Felicity?” 

“Oliver, I think you should just go without me. I'm really just not feeling too great anymore.” 

“Is everything okay?” 

“Well, yeah. But I just- I thought I still had a few more weeks in this dress but the zipper will barely go up properly and I don't think it's very flattering to be wearing something this tight when I look this huge.” 

“Felicity, you don't look huge. You look _pregnant_. Because that's what you are.” 

“I know that and you know that, but nobody else does and I really didn't want to tell anyone yet but there's literally no mistaking it in this dress. Maybe I could try the blue one? You know the floor length one I wore-” 

“Would you come out here, please? So I don't have to talk through the bathroom door when I tell you how beautiful you look and how nobody is going to notice because you're barely 3 months along.” 

…

“See? Nobody will suspect a thing. I promise you.”

“You can't say that because _you_ see me everyday. Some of these people haven't seen me in over a year. They're definitely going to notice the extra 4 lbs I'm carrying around these days.” 

“So? Maybe you ate one too many pizzas in Italy? But we were on our _honeymoon_. You're allowed.”

“You know what else happens on honeymoons, Oliver? People make babies. People are going to be _looking_ for this baby, I swear. And we can tell them all night how it's just pizza but I'm sure no one is going to believe it and I'm going to just freak out because I suck at lying anyway and I always have and I-”

“Hey. Breathe.” 

“Sorry. I'm just really nervous.” 

“I know. But everything is going to be fine, I promise you.” 

“You keep saying that but it really is not helping my nerves at all.” 

“You don't have to be nervous, okay? I'm going to be with you all night. I won't ever let go of your hand if that makes it easier for you.” 

“Do you promise?” 

“Of course.” 

“And you can do all the talking? You know, if anyone mentions the B word.” 

“Fine. Although I don't know what makes you think I'll be any better at lying. I haven't stopped smiling since we found out you're pregnant.” 

“I know, neither have I. And I _am_ excited for our baby and I _do_ want to tell everyone, I'm just… I'm not ready. Not yet. I want at least another month of just being Felicity Smoak, CEO and wife of Oliver Queen before we tell anyone about the baby and people start referring to me in third person as ‘mommy’. Hopefully this little nugget won't grow that much in the next 4 weeks so I can keep them a secret a little longer … They won't grow _that_ much, right?” 

“I’m sure you have at least another month before you start to show. And I will wait as long as you need me to before we tell anyone. That's your choice, completely. But for the record, just so you know, I would happily tell every single person I meet tonight that I'm about to have a baby with you. In fact, I'd even get up onstage and tell the entire room.” 

“Please, _please_ don't do that. I’d probably throw something at you. Even though it makes me so happy to see you so happy.” 

“I'm always happy when I'm with you.” 

“Even when I puked in your shoes one morning last week and then was too busy crying to even help you clean it up?” 

“Even then.”

“Even when I made you stop off to grab me some ice-cream on your way back from work because I absolutely _needed_ it but then I fell asleep eating it whilst you were in the shower and it melted and had the be thrown away?” 

“Yes.”

“Even when I yelled at you yesterday to leave me alone and then cried and yelled at you some more when you actually did what I asked?” 

“Yes, Felicity. Always. I can't lie and say that you never frustrate me or make me mad, but even when you're doing that you're making me happy. Because I’d argue with you all day as long as we were together. Of course, I’d rather do other things with you all day and I _hate_ fighting with you but-”

“Okay. Please stop. You're going to make me cry and it took me so long to get my eyeliner perfect. I'm probably going to end up crying for some reason or another tonight anyway but I'd really like to have at least an hour with my eye makeup looking amazing before I do.” 

“Alright, I'm sorry.” 

“Don't apologise. Please don't apologise. You're incredible, you know that, right? And you're going to be the best dad to our baby. I know you missed out on so much with William and I know how much that hurts you and I'm just so happy that you're going to get to do all of that with this baby and you won't have to miss out on anything.” 

“I'm happy about that too. I'm really happy about that, you have no idea.” 

“I do, Oliver. I really do. I grew up without a dad, remember? I want you to have _everything_ with our baby. Everything I never got to have. I'm so excited for them to get to experience everything with you as their dad.” 

“Thank you. I know you're nervous about being a mom but I know you're going to be amazing too, you know?” 

“Mhmm. I'm sure I'll get the hang of it eventually.” 

“Eventually? If our baby adores you even a fraction of how much William adores you, I'm sure you'll be absolutely fine.” 

“He really does like me, right?” 

“Yes. He asks about you all the time. Whenever we hang out just the two of us he's almost disappointed that you aren't there.” 

“He's so sweet and so smart and I really do love him, you know?” 

“I know. He loves you as well. And our baby is going to love you just as much, if not more. Maybe not as much as me though…” 

“You do love me _a lot_. It's a lot to contend with.” 

“I'm glad you know that.” 

“Of course I know that. Now, we should probably go before we’re even more late to the party than we already are.” 

“You're probably right. Are you sure you're feeling okay?”

“Yeah. You promising to not let go of my hand has helped. I mean, I can't really do anything about the dress situation but-”

“You look beautiful. You always do.”

“Thank you.” 

“And no one is going to say anything about anything besides how amazing you look.” 

“I hope so.” 

“I know so.” 

“Thank you. I love you so much, Oliver.” 

“I love you too. Now take my hand and lets go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please leave me a comment! Every single comment means the absolute world to me!
> 
> Feel free to leave any prompts or questions for me on Tumblr! My ask is right [HERE](http://wetsuiton.tumblr.com/ask) and I'm on there everyday :)


	10. Get Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Get down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this is yet another dialogue only fic; I really wanted to write a full 1500+ word fic this week considering I've done two (now three) dialogue fics in a row. I actually had a good idea for this week's prompt as well! But when I sat down the words just wouldn't come so I ended up writing this instead. I hope you enjoy it anyway! 
> 
> Please let me know what you think when you're done! :)

“Ouch! Felicity, that hurts!” 

“I'm _sorry_. But if you had _listened_ to me, we wouldn't be in this situation right now.” 

“You're not even in the situation!” 

“When you came back with a gaping _hole_ in your shoulder that's only there because you didn't listen and then asked me to stitch you up, I officially became a part of this situation.” 

“ _Fine_.” 

…

“You know, sometimes I wonder why you even bother having me on the team when you don't want to listen to me.” 

“Oh, come on. Now you're being ridiculous. Of _course_ you're needed on the team. And I nearly always listen to you!” 

“Nearly always? Now you're just proving my point.” 

“I'm sorry, okay? I really am. I thought that I could reach without being seen and I was _wrong_. I'm sorry.” 

“I accept your apology, Oliver, but I'm still mad. You could have ended up with more than just a bullet wound tonight and you know it. First, I told you not to go out there alone but you went anyway. Then, once you got to the building, I told you to get down and hide because there was someone coming and you blatantly ignored me again. Do you even remember the conversation we had the last time you got injured because you didn't listen to me?” 

“Yeah. It was when I fell down the elevator shaft.” 

“And you fell down the elevator shaft because...?”

“Because it was rigged and you told me that, you told me to be careful and try something else and I thought I knew best and climbed up there anyway.” 

“Right.” 

… 

“You know that I trust you, right?” 

“I know.”

“Okay, I was just checking. Because I know last time something like this happened, that's what you were worried about.” 

“I remember. And whilst I want to hit you sometimes because of your blatant disregard for your own safety, especially when it's in reference to something I very clearly warned you about, I know that you trust me.” 

“Good. I'm glad you know that.” 

…

“You're just _such_ a pigheaded _guy_ sometimes…” 

“Sorry, what was that?” 

“Nothing.” 

“What did you just mumble under your breath?” 

“I’m not repeating myself, Oliver. I know you heard me with your freakishly good ears.” 

“Felic-” 

“I'm sorry! I’m sorry. I'm just still annoyed, okay? I didn't mean what I said.” 

“It's fine. You're probably right anyway.” 

“Are you just telling me I'm right because you know how happy it makes me in the hopes that I'll stop being mad?” 

“Partly. But also partly because you _are_ right. I am pigheaded sometimes. I'm working on it.” 

“I appreciate that. But just for the record, you _have_ worked on it a lot already. You've come a long way since 2013 Oliver Queen, you know?” 

“Shut up. We don't talk about him anymore.” 

“Aw, really? But he was _soooo_ hot.” 

“I hope your feelings about that particular aspect of me haven't changed, if I'm honest.” 

“Well… I guess the current Oliver is okay.” 

“Just ‘okay’?”

“Hey, I'm still mad at you, remember? And I also have a needle in your skin right now, so I’d be careful with the cockiness if I were you.” 

“Right. Sorry.”

…

“I know you don't like to think about it, but do you even know what it would do to me if something happened to you? Something really bad. Something you couldn't just stitch up and forget about. Do you?” 

“I know what it would do to _me_ if it happened to you. So yeah, I guess.” 

“Then you understand why I get mad at you over stuff like this, right? Because this could have ended so much worse. And the thought of that terrifies me in my bones, Oliver.” 

“I know, and I'm sorry. And I really want to tell you that I won't do something like it again and mean it, but I don't think I can. But I promise I'll try, okay?”

“Okay.” 

…

“To be fair to you, you do listen to me most of the time. It's just during the really important stuff that involves your actual life where you seem to develop selective hearing…”

“Felicity.” 

“And you _do_ always make it up to me when you feel guilty for not listening. With breakfasts in bed and bubble baths and orgasms…” 

“Fe-li-ci-ty…”

“Hmmm?”

“Are you almost done back there?” 

“Oh right, yeah. Yeah, I'm done.” 

“Can we go home now?” 

“Sure.” 

“Wait, tell me you're not still mad first, please.” 

“If I tell you I'm not that mad anymore, will all the making it up to me still happen?” 

“I will give you a bubble bath and 10 orgasms either way. But if you're still mad, we’re staying here and talking this out some more.” 

“10?” 

“Felicity.”

“Sorry! But you can't just tell me you're going to give me 10 orgasms and expect me to listen to everything else you're saying!” 

“I'm serious.” 

“Okay, _fine_. I'm still a _little_ annoyed, but I'm not mad. You've apologised and promised you’ll try and do better in the future and I can't really ask for more than that can I?” 

“I can live with you being a little annoyed still. I deserve that.” 

“No, you don't. But you might need some motivation by orgasm number 5 so I'll keep this annoyance in mind.” 

“By orgasm number 5, I'm not sure _I'll_ be the one who needs motivating…” 

“10 is a little extreme, Oliver.” 

“Well, you know me, I've always been an overachiever.” 

“Apart from when you were dropping out of college all th-” 

“ _Ten_ , Felicity.” 

“Right, right, I'll shut up now. Let's go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please leave me a comment! I find it super difficult to continue writing without encouragement from others and so every single comment means the absolute world to me!
> 
> Feel free to leave any prompts or questions for me on Tumblr! My ask is right [HERE](http://wetsuiton.tumblr.com/ask) and I'm on there everyday :)


	11. Impaired judgement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: impaired judgement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I wouldn't do just another dialogue prompt this week but life happened and I ran out of time. Sorry! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this! Please let me know what you think :)

“Why did everyone leave?” 

“Because you kept saying really inappropriate things and they were getting uncomfortable.” 

“Really? That's it? I always say inappropriate things!”

“This time you were _slightly_ more inappropriate than usual.” 

“Hmmpf.” 

…

“Do you wanna go to a movie?” 

“I think the only place you're going tonight is to bed.” 

“Or what about a club? Lets go dancing!” 

“Yeah, I know a really great club called Bed and that's exactly where you're going.” 

“Really?! Is it new? I haven't heard of that place.”

“It's not new. It's been in our apartment upstairs for the last few years now. We’ve been there several times. We go there every night, in fact.” 

“You're so boring.” 

“And _you_ just got _shot_.” 

“I'm _fine_!” 

“Felicity, you have a fresh bullet wound in your shoulder and you're high on pain meds. You are not fine.” 

“But I can't even feel anything! Look I can even do this!” 

“Don't move your-” 

“ _Ahhhh!_ ”

“I told you not to move it. Are you alright?” 

“Mhmm. The room is just spinning a little. Like I'm seeing two of you right now.” 

“You should lie down.” 

“It's fine. You'll catch me if I pass out.” 

“That's true, but I'd really rather you didn't pass out at all.” 

“Mmm, true. I'll lie down here.” 

…

“What was I saying that was so inappropriate?” 

“Felicity, just rest please. I'm just going to clean up and then we’ll go home.” 

“I wanna know! It had to be really bad if everyone left.” 

“Trust me, honey. It's better if you don't know.” 

…

“Do you remember the last time I was lying on this table?” 

“I do.” 

“That was the _best_.” 

“Yeah, and thanks to the aforementioned inappropriate talking, everyone else now knows how great it was.” 

“I told everyone we had bunker sex?”

“Yeah.” 

“Oops.” 

…

“Was that all I said?”

“Technically, yeah. But you went into a level of detail that I would have been impressed by if we weren't surrounded by our friends. I actually thought Rene was going to throw up.” 

“Why didn't you stop me?!” 

“Believe me, I tried. But once you got started, there was nothing anyone could do.” 

“Oops.” 

“I've never seen a group of people make excuses and exits quicker in all my life. The only person who actually considered sticking around was Dinah. She was really worried about you and said she was willing to risk your overly sexual babbles just to make sure you were okay.” 

“She's so sweet. I really like her. I'm glad I took that bullet for her.” 

“She isn't too happy about that, you know? She blames herself for you getting injured.” 

“You should tell her about the time I took a bullet for a different Canary. Maybe she’ll feel less guilty.” 

“I told her. She just said you're an idiot but she loves you.” 

“I have matching bullet wounds on both shoulders now, don't I?” 

“Unfortunately, yes.” 

“It's not unfortunate! It's badass!” 

“When these pain meds wear off and your judgement is slightly less impaired, I'm not sure you'll think it's quite so badass. You're probably not going to be able to move your arm properly for a week or two at least. And you'll have to sling it up for at least a few days. Which means you'll have to type one-handed.” 

“Yeah, no, that's not happening. I'm _not_ wearing a sling! Do you know how long it would take me to type a simple command using just one hand?” 

“I don't-” 

“4.7 seconds on average, Oliver. That's an entire two seconds longer than usual. That could be the difference between life and death for you guys. So nope. No sling. No way.” 

“Who said you're even working until you're better and your wound is healed?”

“Me. I said so. Because you are not the boss of me.” 

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow.” 

“No, we won't. There's nothing to talk about. I'll be back down here tomorrow night like every night and I won't be wearing a sling and I'll be _fine_.” 

“Do you know who you sound like right now?”

“Who?”

“Me.” 

“Am I really being that annoying?”

“Hey!”

“Sorry.” 

…

“Stop giggling.” 

“I can't help it.” 

“What are you even laughing at?” 

“I'm just lying here watching you, thinking to myself what a nice ass you have. And it's making me giggle.” 

… 

“What?! You do!” 

“Thanks.” 

“You're welcome.” 

…

“Oliver?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we order pizza when we get home?” 

“I'm not sure you should eat right now. Those meds you're on can make you feel nauseous sometimes.” 

“But I'm _huuuungry_.” 

“Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you when you throw up all over yourself later.” 

“That's gross.” 

“I'm just warning you.” 

“I'm willing to risk anything for pizza.” 

“That I know.” 

… 

“Are you nearly done?” 

“Almost. How are you feeling?” 

“Tired. Hungry. Still kind of dizzy. Like making out with you.” 

“Close your eyes a little. I won't be long.” 

“Didn't you hear what I said? I said I’m feeling like making out with you.” 

“I know. But I also heard you say you're feeling kind of dizzy still and that's more important to me right now.” 

“How dare you?”

“How dare I what? Say your health is more important than kissing you?” 

“Exactly!” 

“Kissing isn't much fun if you fall unconscious halfway through. That's a very specific thing that I am _not_ into.” 

“Well… when you put it like that…” 

…

“Okay. I'm all done. Are you ready to go home?”

“I really like lying here on this table, actually. I think I'll stay here. It's comfy.” 

“You don't have to walk. I'll carry you.” 

“Oh, in that case, I’m ready to go home.” 

… 

“Felicity?” 

“Hmm?” 

“What you did tonight was stupid but I'm really proud of you. You must have been scared but you risked your life to save our friend anyway. And whilst I want to yell at you for putting your life at risk like that and terrifying me half to death, I just want you to know that you're amazing.” 

“It _was_ pretty amazing, right?” 

“ _You_ are amazing.” 

…

“Oliver? Do you remember what you said to me that first time I took a bullet for someone?” 

“I said a lot of things to you that night.” 

“But you told me that I'd always be your girl. It's pretty cool that you actually meant it. I didn't really believe you at the time, but I do now.” 

“I'm glad. You'll always be my girl, Felicity.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please leave me a comment! I find it super difficult to continue writing without encouragement from others and so every single comment means the absolute world to me!
> 
> Feel free to leave any prompts or questions for me on Tumblr! My ask is right [HERE](http://wetsuiton.tumblr.com/ask) and I'm on there everyday :)


	12. Sleepless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: sleepless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't sure whether or not to write this because I knew the process would be upsetting and triggering, just like the first thing I ever posed in this collection of fics. But I've been going through some stuff and as you know, writing is like therapy for me. So I wrote this anyway. You'll probably want to read [THIS](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11084547/chapters/24725991) first but I guess this could work as a stand alone fic too. 
> 
> Much like the first chapter, it's not an uplifting read but it does have somewhat of a happy ending. So I hope you enjoy this anyway! Please let me know what you think once you're done :)

Life continued on as normal. Or at least, it tried to. 

Felicity went to work, went to meetings, went grocery shopping (mostly online but it was still shopping), went down to the bunker and worked with the team, went to a yoga class, called her mom, paid her bills and scheduled an appointment with her dentist that she’d been putting off for weeks. 

During the day, she was mostly okay. There had been a couple of moments where she wasn't, but they were just moments. Momentary lapses in time where her reality shifted and she couldn't remember how to breathe properly. 

Like the time Oliver, John, Dinah and Rene had been out on a mission and she’d been assisting them from her computer just like she did every night. They were almost out of the clear and ready to head home when there'd been an explosion that none of them had been expecting and Felicity hadn't been able to pick up on any of her programmes and all of a sudden her vision had gone black and her ears had started ringing and she’d known she should do something, help the others get out of there by directing them to the nearest safe exit or activate the building’s sprinkler systems in case anything caught fire from the blast. But she hadn't been able to. She’d just frozen, unable to hear anything but the ringing in her ears, unable to see anything but thick, black smoke that wasn't even there, her shaking hands hovering over her keyboard, completely useless. It had taken a good 40-50 seconds before she could bring herself to focus on what was real, on breathing, on getting her friends out of danger. She’d known her friends had been calling her name, asking her where to go, asking her to get them out of there, and when she hadn't been able to respond, when she’d given them nothing but silence for half a minute, they’d started to worry that something had happened to her. She knew they were calling her name, she knew they were asking her if she was okay, but she still hadn't been able to answer because if she opened her mouth, she knew it would fill with smoke and she wouldn't be able to breathe. She vaguely remembered Oliver yelling some brief instructions to them and then their lines went dead, only his left on. He’d said her name then, so softly. 

“Felicity. Felicity, listen to me. We’re okay. You’re okay.” 

He’d just known. He’d known why she wasn't responding, why she couldn't, why the unexpected explosion had affected her this way. 

“No one is hurt, okay? But we could really use your help getting out of here just in case there's anything else we can’t see. Can you do that?” 

Slowly, his voice had brought her back to reality. Slowly, she’d squeezed her eyes shut and counted to ten, bringing herself out of the smoke and the screams and back into her chair at her desk where the only sounds were the whirring of her computers and the hissing of the air vents and she knew she was safe. Slowly, she’d opened her eyes and focused on the screen in front of her, scanning over the entire building, finding a secure route for them to take and checking it four times until she was absolutely sure it was safe before she told them which way to go. 

She’d left and gone home before they returned, not wanting any of them to see the mess she was in, not wanting any of them to ask questions. She wasn't sure whether or not Oliver had told them what had happened to her or if they still believed she’d left before the bomb had gone off. She didn't care. As long as they didn't ask, she didn't care whether they knew or didn't know. As long as they thought she was fine, she didn't care. 

Because she was fine. She _was_.

During the day. Mostly. 

But night always came no matter how hard she tried to pretend it didn't exist by keeping all the lights on and turning up the TV so loud she was sure the neighbours could hear it; obnoxious comedy shows that weren't even funny. She forced herself to watch them and forced herself to laugh at them until the early hours of the morning. 

But eventually she had to sleep. Of course she had to sleep. 

And then the nightmares would come. 

They were always the same. For two weeks they were always the same. 

Loud music and singing and dancing and smiling and laughing and screaming and crying and coughing and struggling to breathe and panic and blood, so much blood, none of it hers even though her hands were covered in it, pained faces looking right at her, begging her to save them, to help them, to do something, to make it stop. 

She always woke up drenched in her own cold sweat, gasping for breath, her fingers numb from digging them into her skin so hard, almost as if she’d been trying to claw her way out of herself, her heart hammering painfully against her ribcage as though it would burst right out any second and everything would finally stop. 

Sometimes, she almost hoped it would. 

The first couple of nights, she managed to coax herself back to sleep. She’d prop her tablet up on her bedstand and watch mindless documentaries about the ocean, the mountains, the sky, until she somehow fell back into a restless sleep. 

Sometimes there would be just one nightmare and she’d wake up with her alarm hours later when morning came. But sometimes there would be two nightmares. Sometimes three. 

Eventually, Felicity stops sleeping all together. 

Instead, she starts working out. She joins the gym a few blocks away because it's open 24 hours and rather than go to bed at night, she starts running on the treadmill and lifting weights and punching dummies until she's exhausted. 

Instead, she orders books and jigsaws and model airplanes and sits at her dining room table with them, chugging cup after cup of coffee until the sun comes up. 

Instead, she starts taking apart small appliances in her home just so she can build them back together again, her kitchen floor covered in wires and screws and circuit boards until her eyes lose focus and she starts to get a headache. 

Instead, she sits on her couch and stares at the TV even when it isn't turned on. 

Instead, she feels herself going crazy. 

She knows people notice. 

She knows her assistant at work notices that she's drinking three times as much coffee as usual and wearing three times as much makeup to hide the dark purple skin under her eyes and the blemishes on her cheeks. 

She knows her mom notices in her voice that she isn't sleeping, she knows that she notices her fake enthusiasm, the lies she tells her about what she's been up to and how she's been doing. 

She knows Dinah and Rene notice how tired she is and she knows they worry because neither of them make jokes around her anymore, and she knows John notices too because he hugs her a little tighter whenever she says goodnight and heads home. 

She knows Oliver notices the exhaustion that runs through her bones because he looks at her, he never stops looking at her, but he barely says a word. 

Not since that night, that night on her balcony where she slept without nightmares for the last time, safe and warm on his lap with her head against his chest, his strong heartbeat right by her ear lulling her into a dreamless sleep. 

She doesn't know what makes her snap. 

She doesn't know why all of a sudden on a Thursday at 2am she can't take anymore. 

She doesn't know why she's crying and feeling like hitting her head against the wall. 

She just knows that she needs to sleep. She needs to sleep so _fucking_ badly that she feels like she’ll die if she doesn't. 

But she _can't_ sleep now. Her body doesn't know _how_. She's spent the last two weeks fighting sleep with everything in her and surviving on tiny 10 minute naps in the middle of the afternoon in the bathroom next to her office where she knows she can't stay long. 

But she can't do that anymore. She needs to sleep. She needs to sleep or she really will go insane. 

If she hasn't already. 

And so that's why she doesn't think twice about leaving her apartment in the middle of the night and walking the 12 blocks to the bunker. It isn’t until it starts to rain that she even realises she’s out in the street. She doesn't put on a coat. She's surprised she even remembers to put on shoes. 

That's why she doesn't even consider the fact that Oliver is still sleeping down there; her brain skips over that part completely. Because she just knows she needs something that will make her sleep, that will knock her out completely into a sleep so deep she's sure the nightmares won't be able to reach her and she’ll do anything to get it. 

She's sure there's something like that in their medicine cabinet. She's sure of it. There has to be something. _Anything_. Hell, she’ll even take one of Oliver’s tranquilliser arrows at this point if she can't find anything else. 

She takes the elevator down to the bunker and heads over to the med bay on autopilot, not registering anything about her surroundings or paying any actual attention to where she's going. She's made this journey a thousand times over the last few years and she's grateful because she really doesn't have any extra brain capacity left to have to think about the direction she has to go in.

She’s just so _tired_. 

She’s been bent down looking through the medicine cabinet, mumbling to herself under her breath, emptying drawer after drawer and throwing it all on the floor trying to find what she’s looking for for around five minutes when she hears a noise behind her. She stops what she's doing and goes quiet and it isn't until then that she remembers that Oliver is living down there, that she's probably woken him, that she somehow has to explain what she's doing without sounding absolutely insane. 

But then she remembers why came here, how _tired_ she is, how much she just wants to go home and sleep without nightmares and she doesn't even care about explaining herself. She just goes back to what she was doing before, pulling open another drawer and starting to empty the contents of it onto the floor, checking the backs of packets and boxes and containers for _anything_ that will help her sleep. 

She doesn't hear Oliver approaching her. She doesn't even know he's there or that he's moved until she feels his hand on her shoulder, softly touching her. She jumps at the contact and pulls away from him, and she doesn't know why. 

“Felicity.” 

He whispers her name and it makes her shudder. 

She doesn't respond, just keeps on looking until she gets to the last drawer. She's halfway through emptying it when Oliver says,

“If you tell me what you're looking for, I could probably help.” 

But she knows it's no use because she’s almost emptied the drawer and there's nothing in there. She can’t believe there's _nothing_. She stands up, not bothering to clear away the mess she's made, not sure she even has the energy anyway. Her brain is running at 1000 miles a minute and she's genuinely considering trying to steal something from Star City hospital and she _still_ hasn't said anything to Oliver because she has nothing to say, she can't explain anything because she has no idea what she's even doing anymore. 

“It's fine, we don't have any,” she says, because she knows she needs to say something. 

Oliver doesn't respond, he just looks at her, the way he's been looking at her for the last three weeks. 

Like he's about to lose her any second. 

“I should get back. I really need to-” 

“Sleep. You need to sleep, right? That's why you were here? You were looking for something to help you sleep? Because you've been having nightmares so real and terrifying that you’re scared to even close your eyes in the day time, let alone at night, right?” 

She looks at him, seeing nothing but pain and understanding in his eyes. She hates that he knows what she's going through, how she's feeling, but a part of her feels comforted that she's not alone. 

Except she is. She _is_ alone. She can't talk to anyone about this, and especially not Oliver because they don't talk like that, not anymore. Especially not Oliver because he’s been through his own pain and trauma too many times to count and she’d rather die than contribute anymore to that. 

“I just… I have a headache.” 

She both sees and hears Oliver sigh at her lie. “I'm sure you have painkillers at home.” 

“It's a really bad headache.” 

“You don't have to lie to me, Felicity. I just want to help you.” 

“You can't,” she whispers. 

The truth of her own words hit her and she fights back a sob. 

She wants to leave. She needs to leave. If she doesn't leave soon she's going to cry and she doesn't want to do that here. She wants to do that at home where no one can hear her or see her. Her chest is hurting and her eyes are burning with the force of which she's trying to hold everything back. It's exhausting her. So she says, 

“Goodnight, Oliver.” 

She tries to walk away from him, deep down knowing he won't just let her walk home again but trying anyway, turning away and crossing the room. She’ll run if she has to. She just needs to get home. 

But she doesn't get far. She takes around three steps before her legs feel too heavy and the pain and exhaustion is suddenly too much and she can't even hold herself up anymore. 

She doesn't remember falling to the floor. She wonders if she's imagining the whole thing, if this entire night is a dream. 

But the cold floor against her flushed skin feels real, that she's sure of. And if she wasn't sure of anything before, Oliver’s warm hands on her skin are real, she knows they are, because nothing has ever felt more real in all her life. 

She knows she tries to pull away, to stand up, but she can't, she just _can't_ because suddenly she's exactly where she needs to be. 

She stops fighting everything then. 

She just lets herself fall into him, knowing he’ll catch her no matter what, and gives up pretending she's fine. 

Because she's not fine. Not at all. 

“I just feel like I'll be like this forever, like it's never going to go away, like I'll be terrified for the rest of my life and I don't know how to live with that,” Felicity cries against his chest, not feeling like she's making any sense but knowing that Oliver will understand anyway. “I haven't slept in two weeks because it's so much worse at night and I just… I don't know what to do anymore,” 

Oliver makes shushing sounds by her ear, his arms wrapped around her stroking her back softly, rocking them slightly backwards and forwards. His actions soothe something inside her but she can't stop crying, her body wracked with ugly and uncontrollable sobs that almost hurt. 

“Tell me it goes away, please. Even if you have to lie to me, just please tell me it all stops eventually,” she sobs, almost choking on her own words as she says them. 

“I promised myself I would never lie to you again, Felicity. But I _can_ promise you that it won't always be this bad, okay? Because even though I still have nightmares sometimes where I'm trapped in a cage and my heart rate increases and I can't relax whenever there's a storm and sometimes on certain days of the year I can't stop picturing my mother dying in front of my eyes, it's not as bad as it used to be. It hurts, but I get through it. And you will to. I promise with my whole heart that you will. Because you're the strongest person I know and you can get through _anything_.” 

She shivers at his words. 

She believes him. Mostly, anyway. The fact that Oliver is even here sometimes is proof enough that it must get easier at some point because there's no way any human could live with that much pain otherwise. Not even Oliver. 

They don't speak again for a long time. They just sit there on the floor, holding onto each other like their lives depend on it. Felicity doesn’t let herself think about anything other than how safe she feels for the first time in three weeks. She doesn't think about what that _means_ or what will happen tomorrow or how she’s going to get to the part where things are easier. Right now, she doesn't need to. Because she knows she's safe for now. And her brain and body have been needing this feeling so much. 

Eventually, she stops crying. But even then, she doesn't let go of Oliver and he doesn't let go of her either. 

“You were right, earlier. About what you said. About the nightmares and stuff. I _was_ down here looking for something that would knock me out enough so that I wouldn't be able to dream.” 

“I know. But I also know that nothing works anyway, Felicity. Or at least, I've never found a sleeping pill strong enough to stop nightmares. For me, I just had to let them run their course and eventually, I had more and more days in between where I could sleep without them. And now, I only get them every once in awhile. They're still just as terrifying but they're… less. They happen less and that's what's important for me to remember. Because when they're happening and they feel like they'll never stop and I'll be trapped inside them, eventually they end anyway and I get up and go to work just like everyone else in the world. And that comforts me, you know?” 

Felicity nods, because even though she's never had nightmares quite like Oliver’s or even quite like the ones she's been having recently, she has had them before, usually about Haven Rock or about being paralysed again, and just like Oliver said, eventually they end. They always do. Eventually she wakes up and she pours herself a coffee and even though she never forgets them, she lives her life anyway. 

She isn't sure when she falls asleep. She isn't sure when Oliver must have picked her up and carried her over to his bed either. 

But it doesn't matter. What matters is that when she wakes up hours later as the sun is rising, she isn't alone and she knows she hasn't been all night, not even for a second. 

Because for the first time in three weeks, there have been no nightmares. 

Felicity turns over and lets herself drift back to sleep again. She isn't sure whether she’s dreaming or not when she feels Oliver’s lips on her forehead. 

She doesn't mind either way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please leave me a comment! I find it super difficult to continue writing without encouragement from others and so every single comment means the absolute world to me!
> 
> Feel free to leave any prompts or questions for me on Tumblr! My ask is right [HERE](http://wetsuiton.tumblr.com/ask) and I'm on there everyday :)


	13. Ask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: ask

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to post anything this week because I ran out of time and life happened etc BUT I managed to write this super quickly tonight and I'm actually relatively happy with how it turned out to say how little time I had to write it. It's just a quick little dialogue fic, but yeah. Please let me know what you think once you're done! :)

“Where are your pants?”

…

“Oliver? Are you listening to me? I'm asking you a question. Where are your pants?”

…

“You cannot seriously be _sleeping_ right now.” 

“Of course not. I'm not _sleeping_. I'm just… resting my eyes.” 

“Yeah well you can go and rest your eyes somewhere else. Once you've found your pants. Because you're in the way and I have to get back to work and I can't do that if you're sitting against the door with no pants on.” 

“Come and sit down here with me. Let's take a nap. C’mere.”

“Oliver, I swear to god if you try to undo my skirt one more time… I have a meeting in 3 minutes. You have to _move_.” 

“If you wanted me out of the way so quickly, you shouldn't have invited me to your office to have sex in the bathroom.” 

“I _said_ we had to be quick. I literally told you I had 13 and a half minutes.” 

“And we still have 3 left so…?”

“No. _No_. Get up. I cannot be late.” 

“You're the CEO. Of course you can. The meeting can't start without you.” 

“I’m not _just_ the CEO, Oliver. I am Felicity Smoak and Felicity Smoak is _never_ late.” 

“Except for that one time when you thought you were pregnant…”

“Shut up. That was _one_ time. I’m always _very_ careful.”

“ _We_ are always careful.” 

“Right. Exactly. Please can you just put on your pants and move?” 

“I'll move on one condition.” 

“Name it. Please just hurry up.” 

“Give me your underwear.”

“Excuse me?”

“Take off your panties and give them to me. And then I'll move.” 

“Doesn't this game ever get boring for you?”

“Never. I always have a great afternoon picturing you walking around in those heels with no underwear on your perfect ass. It gets me through _my_ meetings.” 

… 

“Why do you need me to actually take off my panties for you to picture me without them on? I know your imagination works perfectly any other day.” 

“You have 47 seconds before you're late, Felicity…”

“ _Ughhh_ , I can't believe you're using my underwear against me.” 

“Really?”

…

“Ugh, _fine_. But whilst I’m taking these off you have to promise to keep your hands to yourself. Otherwise we’ll never get out of this bathroom and I'll miss my stupid meeting.” 

“I can't promise that, I'm afraid. You look incredible in that skirt.” 

“I know. I put it on this morning with every intention of inviting you to my office for lunch.” 

“You were thinking about us having sex in your office when you put it on this morning?” 

“Yup.” 

“ _Fe-li-ci-ty_ …”

“Hands to yourself. Pants on.” 

“You can't just tell me a sexy anecdote whilst you're taking off your underwear and expect me to keep my hands to myself.

“Oliver, I'm serious. I have to go. Like 6 seconds ago.”

“So you're a little late… who cares? It's just a meeting.” 

…

“Fuck it. You're right. It's just a meeting.” 

“I love you so much.”

“Yeah, I love you too. Now hurry up and take this skirt off of me. You have 5 minutes.” 

“God, I love it when you talk to me like that. Being CEO makes you so bossy and assertive. It's amazing.”

“Mhmm. Less talking, more undressing.” 

“I think I'll leave the skirt on actually. Seeing as you put it on for me this morning and you already took off your underwear…”

“ _Oliver_. 4 minutes and 37 seconds.” 

“I’m so glad I married you.” 

“All you had to do was ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please leave me a comment! I find it super difficult to continue writing without encouragement from others and so every single comment means the absolute world to me!
> 
> Feel free to leave any prompts or questions for me on Tumblr! My ask is right [HERE](http://wetsuiton.tumblr.com/ask) and I'm on there everyday :)


	14. Choose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: choose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another dialogue fic... (sorry?) 
> 
> Please let me know what you think when you're done! :)

“Could you please take this seriously?!”

“I _am_ taking this seriously!” 

“No, you aren't. We’ve been sitting here for three hours and you haven't made one sensible suggestion.”

“I have! You wrote down Leela, which I suggested. It's not my fault you changed your mind and crossed it out.” 

“I only changed my mind when I found out yet again that you'd suggested we name our child after a character from a sci-fi movie!” 

“Okay, one, Leela was a character in the TV show Doctor Who, and two, what's so wrong with naming our child after a strong female character from a science fiction? She's _my_ daughter, she’ll love her name and hearing all about where it comes from one day.” 

“She's also _my_ daughter, Felicity, and I want her name to be special.” 

“Almost every single name I've suggested so far has been special and you haven't liked any of them.” 

“Again, I go back to not wanting to name our daughter after-” 

“Yeah, yeah, you've said it already. But since you won't listen to any of _my_ suggestions, let's hear some of yours that are so special!” 

…

“Well?”

“I actually don't have any yet.” 

“Sorry?” 

“I said I don't have any yet.” 

“Yeah, I thought that's what you said only I figured you couldn't _possibly_ have actually said that given how many times you've shit on every single one of my suggestions.” 

“Felicity, we already have a dog named Princess Leia and a fish named after Zoe from Firewatch or whatever that show is called.” 

“It's Fire _fly_ actually.” 

“Whatever. My point is, is that you already named our pets after your favourite characters. Don't you want our daughter to have a name that _means_ something?” 

“Those names _do_ mean something! The names we lovingly gave to our pets are the names of women that I grew up watching, women who inspired me to fight for my life and be proud of my freakishly high IQ when everyone else around me was telling me to dumb myself down so that I wouldn't get picked on or bullied for being too smart.” 

“Okay, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that they don't mean _anything_. To you, they mean something. But not to me! I had no idea who those women even were before you told me about them.” 

“It's not my fault you have no taste in TV and movies…” 

“We have had what feels like this exact argument around 500 times since you found out you were pregnant, you know that right?” 

“I know. And I'm sorry I can't come up with anything. I just had no idea how hard it was going to be to pick a name! At this rate, she’ll be here before we’ve even decided and I really don't want to be one of those moms who calls their baby “baby” for like 6 weeks because her parents were too incompetent to give her a name on time.” 

“I'm not sure incompetent is the right word…” 

“Two people have nine months more or less to come up with a name and can't? Life changing inventions were created in less time, Oliver. I think incompetent is exactly the right word.” 

“At least she has a middle name!” 

“Her middle name is just your mom’s name. We didn't even have to _think_ about that. It doesn't count.” 

“I think it counts. I think it counts enough for us to leave this decision for another day and just get some sleep anyway.” 

“Oliver, I'm 8 and a half months pregnant. I'm not sure how many ‘another days’ we have left.” 

“Maybe we’ll just know as soon as we meet her?” 

“You want to leave this up to _fate_? And just _hope_ a name springs to mind when she’s born? I'm sorry, Oliver, but I am not a woman of fate. I am a woman of science and meticulous planning. You should know that by now.” 

“I do, I know, I was just hoping you'd go along with my suggestion considering it's 3 in the morning and we both have to be up at 7. Which by the way, you wouldn't _have_ to be if you'd actually take your maternity leave at some point around now…” 

“Ah, _another_ argument we've have what feels like 500 times! I told you, I will take a break from work when I'm literally about to give birth. As in, maybe a few hours before. That's _my_ choice. And you're just going to have to put up with it because there's too much that I have to get done before she's born for me to leave now. Plus, I love my job, you know I do. I'm not staying there until the last because I have to. I'm staying because I _want_ to.” 

“I know. I just would feel better if you maybe worked _less_ between now and when the baby is born.” 

“No, Oliver, what you want is me staying in this apartment with my feet up eating fruit and taking naps between now and when the baby is born. I already compromised by promising not to stay as late down in the bunker with you and the team and that's the only compromise I'm willing to make right now.”

“Felicity, last night we got home at 1:30am because you refused to leave even when I told you we could handle it.”

“Forgive me for wanting to make sure the father of my child and her future aunts and uncles, blood related or otherwise, actually made it home safe.” 

“You can't just promise to compromise and then change your mind whenever you feel like it, though!” 

“And _you_ can't just keep giving me choices and being mad when I don't choose the one you were hoping I would, you know? That's not how it works.” 

…

“Fine. I'm sorry.”

“You don't have to apologise. It's just how you are.” 

“Hey!”

“I'm kidding. That was a joke.” 

“I'm not the only one who is _difficult_ sometimes, you know?”

“God, I know. I sometimes wonder how we’ve even been together this long with how irritating we both can be to each other sometimes. And I know I've been _so_ much worse ever since I got pregnant. Which I know isn't entirely my fault…” 

“I think we both share the blame there.” 

“That's true.” 

…

“I’m serious though… how _do_ you think we've managed to stay together all these years even though we drive each other crazy?” 

“Probably because no matter how crazy you drive me, it's never enough for me to forget that I love you more than I've ever loved anyone?” 

…

“Okay, that was cute.” 

“Thanks. I meant it.” 

“I know.” 

…

“Promise me we won't ever end up like our parents, Oliver. Promise me that no matter what, no matter how hard things get, we’ll stay this much in love so that our daughter doesn't have to grow up like we did. With divorces and lies and you know, moderate to major trust and abandonment issues.” 

“Felicity, I promise you. No matter what. Do you trust me?” 

“Always.” 

“Then that's all that matters.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please leave me a comment! I find it super difficult to continue writing without encouragement from others and so every single comment means the absolute world to me!
> 
> Feel free to leave any prompts or questions for me on Tumblr! My ask is right [HERE](http://wetsuiton.tumblr.com/ask) and I'm on there everyday :)


	15. Malfunction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: malfunction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing really didn't come easy for me this week so I'm sorry if this sucks :( I tried to keep it light and fluffy and funny anyway even though I wasn't particularly feeling that way myself, lol.  
> This kind of follows on from chapter 14 "Ask" but let's face it, Oliver and Felicity definitely have enough of these moments for it to stand completely on its own. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think once you're done :)

“Felicity, why have you left 7 voicemails in the last 12 minutes? And why do I have 15 missed calls and 3 texts with nothing but angry emojis?” 

“Shut up. I'm asking the questions here. Did you know?”

“Did I know what?” 

“About the huge rip in my skirt that _definitely_ wasn't there before you came over for lunch?” 

“Felicity, I honestly had-”

“I'm serious, Oliver. _You_ asked me to keep my skirt on whilst we had sex in the bathroom and I walked into my meeting and stood in front of an entire room of board members afterwards with a huge rip straight up the side seam that almost reached the waistband. And if you remember rightly, you asked me to give you my underwear. So I'm sure you can see where I'm going with this.” 

“I literally had no idea. Obviously I had no idea. I would have _told_ you.” 

“I can't believe this. I can't believe I didn't see it!” 

“I can't believe you didn't see it either. Or _hear_ it rip. Surely we should have heard it rip if it was that bad?” 

“I think we were a little preoccupied. And as for me not noticing it, I was already 9 minutes late. I had other things to think about.” 

“I'm sorry. But I'm sure it wasn't that bad! I doubt anyone saw.”

“Oh, they saw. I'm 100% certain they saw. Given the fact that it was my assistant who told me about it and she wasn't even in the room; she was 20 feet away behind a glass wall in her office. I literally can never show my face in there again. We’re gonna have to move back to Ivy Town.” 

“Felicity…”

“I'm serious. Deadly serious. I'm absolutely mortified.” 

…

“Are you… _laughing_?”

“Come on, it’s kind of funny.” 

“Nothing about this is funny, Oliver! I'm the CEO! And I'm 99% sure at least 3 of my board members actually just saw my ass. Or worse.” 

… 

“If you don't stop laughing, I'm leaving you. I’ll leave the country, in fact.” 

“Felicity, re-” 

“I swear to god, if you're about to tell me to relax…” 

“I'm sorry. I'm genuinely sorry that you're going through what you're going through. Genuinely. Are you okay?” 

“Nope. Not even a little bit. We can never have sex in my office again. Ever. We can never have sex whilst I'm at work or about to go to work or any other similar situation ever again.” 

“Don't you think you're being slightly too dramatic over one wardrobe malfunction?” 

“This was _so_ much more than a wardrobe malfunction! I think my assistant is gonna quit, she was so embarrassed for me.” 

“She's not gonna quit. She loves you.” 

…

“Felicity?”

“Sorry, I'm just trying to think of a way to fix this.” 

“Listen, I'm gonna come over and-”

“You coming over is the exact reason why I'm in this situation.” 

“I'm gonna come over and bring you a new skirt. And then I'm going to talk this through with you until you aren't freaking out so much.” 

“Okay. Good. Thank you. Pick up some flowers on the way, please. For my assistant. And maybe some of those super expensive bottles of gin for every person who was in that meeting and maybe kind of saw my ass.” 

“I think them seeing your ass is enough of a gift.” 

“Oliver.” 

“Sorry. Flowers and expensive gin. Anything else?” 

“Maybe a clock that can reverse time and change what happened?” 

“I don't think those are for sale anywhere between my office and yours, unfortunately.” 

“Maybe I should call Barry…”

“You're not going to do anything until I get there. Because now you're actually talking crazy and I'm a little worried.” 

“That was a joke. About Barry. Although I’d be lying if I said the thought hadn't crossed my mind. Even though I guess I don't really want to go back and change time so that we never had sex in my bathroom. Because it's not everyday I get two orgasms in one lunch break. Maybe what I said about us never having sex whilst I'm at work was a little extreme. Maybe we just make sure we always carefully take off our clothes from now on to prevent future mishaps.” 

“You've changed your mind pretty quickly.” 

“Yeah, but I think the gifts will really help. They’ll help my conscience anyway.” 

“Good. I'm glad. About your conscience and about you rethinking us never having sex in your office again.” 

“I figured you would be.” 

“You know me too well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please leave me a comment! I find it super difficult to continue writing without encouragement from others and so every single comment means the absolute world to me!
> 
> Feel free to leave any prompts or questions for me on Tumblr! My ask is right [HERE](http://wetsuiton.tumblr.com/ask) and I'm on there everyday :)


	16. Silver Lining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: silver lining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tried something slightly different with this week's prompt! I've always wanted to write a fic that's composed entirely of texts/emails etc, and this was just me seeing how much fun it would be! (Hint: a lot. I wanna do a full length fic like this one day.)
> 
> Please let me know what you think when you're done!

Hey, so we have really thin walls and I just heard you crying. Are you okay? I live across the hall and I gave you my number when you moved in but we’ve never actually spoken since. So I'm sorry if this is weird. But yeah. Thin walls. Felicity x 

 

_Felicity?_

 

Yup. That's me. I walked right into you the day you moved in and made you drop a box of plates on the floor. Which I'm still sorry about, by the way. And I'm not at all surprised that you've never spoken to me since, so don't worry about that. Those plates were probably expensive. Or family heirlooms. Oh god, were they family heirlooms? 

 

_Nope. Not family heirlooms. You're safe._

 

Thank god. I panicked for a second there. Anyway… are you alright? 

 

_Yup. Fine._

 

Really? You don't look like the kind of guy who just cries unless it's for a genuine reason? 

 

_What do you mean?_

 

I mean… someone like you probably would only cry if they were like, really upset about something. 

 

_Someone like me? You don't know me._

 

I know! But you just look like the kind of guy who wouldn't be phased by anything. You know? Just from seeing you around and stuff. Guys who look like you don't usually cry a lot. Not that I'm playing into male stereotypes! Guys can cry as much as they like. I actually am a real advocate for that. It's healthy. But what I'm trying to say is that guys who look like you, you know with muscles and expensive looking suits to work everyday, are generally the kind of guys who boast about never crying. 

 

Not that I spy on you! Because that would be weird. I just do my makeup at the window every morning and I see you come and go a lot. I promise I'm not checking you out ever. 

 

Okay maybe sometimes. But just a little. 

 

And please tell me to shut up and leave you alone at any point. Please. 

 

Oliver… Can I hear you laughing? 

 

_I'm not laughing at you, I swear. I'm just laughing._

 

I don't care. I'm just glad you're not crying anymore. 

 

_Me too. My sister just moved across the world. She's 6 hours into a 12 hour flight right now. She's never been further away from me than she is right now and she still has thousands of miles to go. And I can't even call her and talk to her because she's on a plane. She's never been the best flyer either and I'm just glued to the flight tracker and counting down the hours to when she lands. I got a little emotional about it all. I didn't realise you’d be able to hear. I'm sorry._

 

Don't apologise! I'm so sorry you're worrying about your sister. I know it doesn't mean much now, but I'm sure she's going to have the time of her life overseas and she’s probably gonna call you everyday to tell you all about it. I mean, I don't know her obviously, but if I had a brother I'm pretty sure that's what I’d do. And for the record, the chances of dying in any kind of plane related accident are 1 in 29.4 million, just in case you were worrying about that. You're much more likely to be hit by lightning actually. 

 

_I had a dog when I was a kid that was hit by lightning._

 

You're kidding?! 

 

_Yeah, I am. Sorry._

 

That wasn't funny. I thought I'd just triggered a traumatic childhood memory. 

 

_I'm sorry. Seriously. I never had any pets when I was a kid, actually._

 

Oh god, that's so sad. Almost as sad as your made up lightning story! 

 

_Not really. My best friend next door had 3 so I could go around and play with them whenever I wanted to._

 

Good. No child deserves to grow up without dogs. 

 

_My sister and I begged our parents every Christmas to get us a dog. But it never worked. My mom liked to keep the house super clean and she insisted that a dog would ruin it. We gave up asking after about 10 years. It was a lost cause._

 

My mom first bought me a puppy as a guilt present when my dad left. I had 4 by the time the year was out. I may have pretended to cry a couple of times when I realised how easy it was to get myself another dog. And before you ask, as a fully grown adult, I hate myself. 

 

_There have to be perks of divorces, right?_

 

You know all about them, I'm guessing? 

 

_Beer and video games and no curfews were my guilt presents._

 

Nice. I was 7 so I don't think beer would have worked for me no matter how hard I cried. 

 

_Probably for the best really._

 

Yeah. There's underage drinking and then there's, well… just giving your 7 year old child beer. Also known as child neglect. 

 

Anyway, are you sure you're okay? I know we’ve now bonded over childhood divorce and you laughed at me digging myself a hole where I accidentally admitted that I sometimes check you out a little bit, but are you alright? What you told me about your sister is a lot to deal with. 

 

_Yeah, I'm honestly feeling a lot better. Talking to you has really helped. You're pretty cool._

 

Just not when I'm breaking your plates. 

 

_That was a long time ago. I forgive you._

 

Thanks. But I still feel bad. How about I buy you some new plates? 

 

_Are you free tomorrow? We could go get some plates from Ikea and then have dinner in the restaurant. I hear their meatballs are sublime._

 

I don't want to read too much into this but… are you asking me out on a date? Like a date, date? 

 

_It doesn't have to be a date. It could just be dinner. Besides, I like to think I have more class than to ask a girl on a date to a furniture store._

 

No. A date is fine. I like dates. And I like meatballs. And furniture. 

 

_I can't wait to tell my sister that I'm going on a date with the girl who broke all my plates. She’ll probably want to thank you. Because of that, we ate takeout for a week straight because we had nothing else to eat off of. When Thea finally went home, she said she felt 10lbs heavier. And apparently that was a good thing._

 

Silver linings, right? 

 

_I think the entire day leading up to this conversation with you has been one of those._

 

I'm glad I could make you feel better. And I just really I hope I live up to your expectations tomorrow. 

 

_I'm sure you will. How does 8pm sound?_

 

Perfect. 

 

_I'll meet you in the hall?_

 

Romantic. 

 

_That's me. See you tomorrow, Felicity._

 

Goodnight, Oliver.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please leave me a comment! I find it super difficult to continue writing without encouragement from others and so every single comment means the absolute world to me!
> 
> Feel free to leave any prompts or questions for me on Tumblr! My ask is right [HERE](http://wetsuiton.tumblr.com/ask) and I'm on there everyday :)


	17. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of feels after seeing *those* pics last night and then the prompt for this week fit so perfectly with an idea I was already having and thus, this was born. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think when you're done! :)

Before Felicity moved in with Oliver, she thought a lot about the phrase _‘you can never really know someone until you live with them’_. 

Ultimately, it turned out the phrase was true. 

And now, as they approach their wedding day, it looks like the phrase _‘you can never really know someone until you marry them”_ is turning out to be true too. 

Okay, so maybe she’s made that phrase up in her head. Its premise still stands, though. 

Felicity has lost count of the number of arguments they’ve had over the last few weeks especially now the big day is only two weeks away. And whilst they’re both big believers in making up before they go to bed at night, it doesn’t take long for something to have them yelling at each other again, usually the next day. 

Oliver’s insistence that the day be absolutely perfect and not at all like their “fake wedding” from three years ago had been sweet at first. He’d thrown himself head first into the planning, checking every single detail off of a list until every single thing in the history of weddings had been taken care of. They’d talked long and hard about everything, about what they both wanted and how they could compromise when they couldn’t agree on the same thing. 

She’d been in charge of the guest list, finding the perfect place to make their cake and then obviously, dress shopping. 

It worked. They had a system and it worked. They found the entire thing fun, it brought out the best in them, highlighted just how well they worked together and how utterly in love they were.

Until it didn’t. 

Somewhere during the last month, Oliver’s attentiveness and obsession with getting every last detail perfect began to irritate Felicity. And in return, Felicity’s seemingly subtle eye rolls and sarcastic comments began to irritate Oliver too. Add to that his accusation that she apparently just couldn’t stop thinking about what her mom would think about every decision they made. Which is crazy. Because she _isn’t_ doing that. And even if she _is_ , Oliver just _doesn’t get it_. Even though he’s known her mom for years now, it still doesn’t change the fact that he didn’t grow up with her and has absolutely no idea what that was like. 

They have the same arguments over and over. Today is no different. 

“Why are you asking me about tablecloths? I’m trying to _work_.” 

“Because you still haven’t chosen!” 

“You gave me two shades of white. They look exactly the same. Just pick one. No one is going to care anyway.” 

Felicity barely looks up from her computer to acknowledge the colour strips Oliver is holding. If she’s honest, she wants to rip them out of his hand and shove them in the garbage. Or somewhere else much less polite. 

“I don’t want to just choose without asking you!” 

“And I just told you that they look exactly the same to me. Maybe that’s because I need new glasses, maybe that’s because they are actually just the same colour. So just pick one. I don’t care which one you pick.” 

“Maybe I should ask you what colour your _mom_ would pick?” Oliver asks, his voice raised, suddenly angry just like all the other times they’ve argued like this before. 

Felicity laughs, dryly, but his comment stings. 

“I actually can’t believe you sometimes.” 

“I’m just saying! Half of the decisions we make you have to consider your mom’s opinion even though this is _our_ wedding, so maybe I should just call her myself and ask her about the tablecloths!” 

“Yeah, maybe you should! You can tell her that you’re just calling because the daughter who disappointed her all her life can’t make a fucking decision about anything!” 

Felicity sees the exact moment where Oliver regrets bringing this up. His chest and shoulders fall and his eyes go soft. He drops the strips on the table and reaches for her hand. But she doesn’t let him touch her. She pulls away and folds her arms over her chest. 

“Felicity, I-“ 

“I don’t care. Just leave me alone.” 

They stare at each other for a long minute. The fight has gone, it’s over and they both know it, but neither is about to apologise. It’s too late for that. 

“I’m going to Thea’s.” 

“Fine.” 

And that’s that. Felicity watches Oliver walk away from her and out of the door, only stopping briefly to pick up his coat and keys on the way. Just as the door is about to close she considers calling out to him, considers forgetting everything for now and just going back to the way things were 5 minutes ago. But she doesn’t. She watches the door close and then rests her head in her hands, surprised to find herself so close to tears. 

She’s still angry, of course she is, but more than anything she hates admitting to herself that Oliver just might be right. She hates how much everything is coming between them, how much it’s changing between them, no matter how temporarily. She hates that she sometimes finds herself wondering if all of the arguments are worth it. 

Felicity sighs and tries to get back to work but she can’t concentrate and eventually the words on her screen blur with the tears in her eyes. Slamming her laptop closed and wiping her eyes furiously, she jumps when she hears a noise behind her. 

Her heart drops even more when she sees William standing there. She’d forgotten he was home. And suddenly she’s acutely aware of the fact that he probably heard every angered word she and Oliver yelled at each other just now. And a lot of the other times too. 

“I’m sorry if you heard any of that. Or all of that. It’s just-“ 

She stops. She doesn’t know what to say. 

“It’s alright.” 

“No, it’s not. It’s not alright. You shouldn’t have to hear any of that. Ever. It’s not fair,” Felicity says, standing up from the table. 

She wants to go to him, to hug him and kiss his forehead and reassure him that everything is okay. But she doesn’t because that would feel like lying. 

William shrugs and pushes his hands into his jeans pockets. “It’s just the wedding, right? You guys won’t fight like this after the wedding.” 

Felicity smiles. “The wedding is bringing out the worst in us, I think. But I’d be lying if I said we won’t ever argue once it’s over.” 

He looks at her, nothing but uncertainty on his face. Sometimes, he’s so much like Oliver that Felicity forgets just how young he is, how little time they’ve all been living together, how still new all of this must be for him. For all of them, but for William especially. 

She sees it now. 

“You don’t have to worry about any of this though, okay? Because no matter how much we argue, Oliver and I love each other. And we always work things out. Even if it does take a while sometimes. You know that, right?” 

He nods but nothing about his expression changes to suggest that he believes her. She watches him nibble on his bottom lip. 

“It’s not my fault, right?” He asks. “What happened between you two before, I mean. Oliver told me a lot how he wanted me to meet you but that my mom said I wasn’t allowed, that you weren’t allowed to know about me, and sometimes I just wonder if that was the reason why you guys broke up.” 

Felicity’s eyes fill with tears again as he speaks. She goes over to him and crouches down in front of him. He towers over her like this and suddenly she realises that he’s growing up and that one day soon he’ll probably be even taller than she is. She wants to freeze time. They haven’t had enough of him like this. Oliver has missed out on so much and it isn't fair. 

“Please don’t _ever_ think that was your fault, okay? Because it wasn’t. It really and truly wasn’t anything to do with you, I promise you. I promise you that with all my heart,” she says, tears still in her eyes, holding onto one of Will’s hands and stroking the top of it with her thumb. 

He doesn’t say anything for awhile. Felicity watches him, watches the thoughts passing behind his eyes and wishes she could arrange them for him so that everything makes sense. But she can’t. So she just continues trying to soothe him a little by running her thumb over his hand until finally, William looks up and meets her eyes.

“Do you wanna go for ice-cream?” He asks. “I saved up some of my pocket money and I really wanna take you out for ice-cream. I feel like you need it right now. Oliver said that mint chip is your favourite? And if Oliver can escape to Thea’s, you should be able to escape to the ice-cream store.” 

Felicity can’t help it. She laughs. And then a tear falls from her eye and she laughs even more because somehow, this beautiful child standing in front of her is so much wiser than she could ever dream of being. 

“You don’t have to buy me ice-cream, Will. I can buy ice-cream for both of us. As much as you like. Whatever flavour and whatever toppings. And I won’t tell Oliver so you’ll be spared the extra helpings of vegetables with dinner tonight,” Felicity chuckles, leaning up to kiss Will’s cheek before standing up fully and ruffling his hair. 

He pulls a face and dodges out of her way and she laughs again. He says he hates it when she and Oliver do that, but they never remember until it’s too late. 

“Sorry, hon,” Felicity smiles. 

“You aren’t,” Will laughs. 

He’s right. 

“Maybe you could bring that math homework I know you have? And we can go through it together?” Felicity asks, trying to keep the humour from her voice. 

It clearly works because William sighs and rolls his eyes. “Seriously?” 

She laughs at his reaction. She isn’t really going to make him do math, not right now at least. As much as she really does enjoy sitting down and helping him with his homework, she knows now isn’t the time. “I’m kidding. Just like the vegetables, I’ll spare you the homework. For now. But we’re doing it tonight, okay? No excuses.” 

He sighs again but she can tell he’s joking around just as much as she is now.

She loves being with him like this. Felicity had always worried that William would hate her, that he’d think she was trying to be his mom, that he’d never be able to talk to her or spend time with her. And they’d had their arguments and awkward silences to begin with. But thankfully, somehow, they have a great relationship now and not a day goes by where Felicity isn’t so absolutely grateful that Will has such a loving heart. He really is so much like his father. 

“Anyway, didn’t you say something about ice-cream?” She asks, picking up her purse and car keys. 

Will grins and the excitement in his eyes makes Felicity smile. 

They’re just at the door when he says, “Felicity?” 

“Yeah?” 

“You’re really cool, you know? I always knew you would be just because of what Oliver told me about you, but I didn’t know you’d be _this_ cool.” 

Felicity fights back the urge to cry and scoop him up in her arms and instead just smiles and rests her hand on his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. “Thank you. You’re really cool too.” 

“You promise you really won’t tell Oliver how much ice-cream I eat?” 

Laughing, Felicity unlocks the door. “I promise.” 

 

That night, when Oliver finally comes home, William is in bed already after finishing his homework and Felicity is watching TV in front of the fire. 

Much like other times when they’ve argued, Oliver doesn’t speak for awhile and just goes into the kitchen and pours himself a glass of water. He has his back to her and so he doesn’t notice her approaching until she slips her arms around his waist and rests her head on his back. 

“I missed you,” Felicity says, tightening her arms around him in a hug. 

She feels him sigh as his puts his glass down and runs his hands along her arms. 

“I wanted to come back earlier, but Thea ordered takeout and I couldn’t resist.” 

“She better still fit in her bridesmaid dress after that takeout,” Felicity laughs. 

Oliver chuckles and then unwraps her arms from around him so that he can turn and face her. “Speaking of which… I’m sorry about earlier.” 

“Me too. I’m sorry too.” 

“What I said about your mom wasn’t fair. I shouldn’t have said that.” 

“It’s alright, honestly. We were both mad. It’s forgotten,” Felicity smiles, taking his hands in hers. 

“No, it’s not alright. I was out of line. I guess I’m just kind of jealous deep down. Because I wish I had my mom’s opinions to consider. I wish I had to worry about what she’d think of the tablecloths,” Oliver smiles, nudging her jokingly at the mention of what caused their argument earlier, but his humour is lost in the empty look in his eyes as his talks about his mother. 

“I’m really sorry,” Felicity says, because she doesn’t know if there’s anything else she _can_ say. 

Oliver smiles again and kisses her forehead. 

Squeezing his hand in response, Felicity says, “For the record, we should go with the second colour. I think it matches the floral table arrangements better.” 

Oliver laughs. “That’s what I thought too. Imagine if we’d just had this conversation earlier…” 

Felicity laughs too and presses a soft kiss to his lips. 

“As much as I hate fighting with you, I’m kind of glad you were gone this afternoon. I got to spend some time with William, just the two of us, and it was really nice.” 

Smiling, Oliver raises his eyebrows. “Really? What did you guys get up to?” 

“Well, I was kind of upset after you left and Will offered to take me out for ice-cream. We had a little heart to heart over some mint chip and raspberry ripple that he insisted we share and I insisted I pay for and then we went for a walk around the park. He heard us fighting earlier and he was upset about it too. But we talked about it and I think he’s okay now. He’s upstairs in bed but when I went to check on him a little while ago, he was still reading so if you want to go and speak to him, I’m sure he’s still up.” 

“I will, I’ll go up in a sec. Was he really upset?” 

“I think he just wanted reassurance that it wasn’t his fault. I know he doesn’t know everything that happened between us before, but somewhere inside, there’s a little part of him that blames himself. It broke my heart, Oliver. We have to stop arguing around him. I honestly just can’t do it anymore; it’s not fair,” Felicity says, guilt wrapping itself around her rib cage and making her want to cry. “He’s just a kid and he’s lost so much and he deserves better from us.” 

Oliver nods and then wraps his arms around her, pulling her against him. She feels him kiss the top of her head. 

“I know all of this isn’t exactly the way we planned it…” 

“When has anything between the two of us ever gone to plan? Felicity chuckles against his chest. 

“But we can make it work, okay?” Oliver continues, holding her tightly. “We’re _going_ to make this work, the three of us. And no more arguments, I promise. At least, not anywhere where Will can hear. Because I think until the wedding is over, we’ll probably need to argue a little more. And then even after that because sometimes it’s important, you know?” 

“Of course. We wouldn’t be us if we didn’t argue sometimes. No one would recognise us.” 

Oliver laughs and hugs her even tighter, kissing the top of her head again. 

“William really loves you, you know?” 

“He told me today that I’m really cool. I was _this_ close to crying,” Felicity giggles. “He’s the best.” 

“I’m so happy I have you both.” 

“Always.” 

“I can’t wait to marry you,” Oliver whispers against her hair. 

Felicity presses a soft kiss to his neck before pulling back and smiling up at him. “I can’t wait either. But now you should go up and speak to your son before he falls asleep. I think he really needs to see you before he does. I’ll be right here when you come down.” 

Oliver smiles back and leans down to kiss her mouth once, then twice before he finally heads upstairs to talk to William. 

Felicity watches him until he disappears behind the bedroom door. Smiling to herself, she goes into the kitchen and takes out some ice-cream she and William had brought back for Oliver, slipping two spoons into it so they can share it when he comes down. 

The next two weeks can’t come quick enough. She really can’t wait to finally marry Oliver Queen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please leave me a comment! I find it super difficult to continue writing without encouragement from others and so every single comment means the absolute world to me!
> 
> Feel free to leave any prompts or questions for me on Tumblr! My ask is right [HERE](http://wetsuiton.tumblr.com/ask) and I'm on there everyday :)


	18. Sent To The Wrong Printer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: sent to the wrong printer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe there's only two more weeks left of this challenge!! There will be an actual hole in my chest once it ends,I swear. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this! Please let me know what you think once you're done :')

“Okay, this has to stop. I’m stopping this.” 

 

“Stopping what?”

 

“Stopping this… whatever this is.” 

 

“I don’t know what-“

 

“Don’t play innocent with me, Oliver. I know when you’re up to something. You’ve been acting weird all night. It’s like you can’t do enough for me!”

 

“I’m just trying to be helpful.”

 

“I know, and it’s sweet, it really is, but I know you. Something is up. So tell me what’s up.” 

 

“I don’t want you to be mad at me…”

 

“I won’t be mad. Unless you broke my computer or something. Wait. You didn’t break my computer did you?” 

 

“I wish…”

 

…

 

“Now you’re making me panic. Is something wrong?” 

 

“Nothing’s wrong. At least not in the way I can tell you’re thinking is wrong.” 

 

“Then what is it?” 

 

“It’s about the party.” 

 

“Okay…” 

 

“More specifically about the surprise we were going to announce at the party.” 

 

“Oliver, would you just spit it out? What happened?”

 

“Alright, so you know how I told you I’d print out a couple of pictures of the ultrasound so that when we tell everyone about the baby, we can show them pictures? And you told me you’d do it but I insisted otherwise because you were exhausted and needed to sleep? And you _said_ I’d mess up your computer or something but you were too tired to argue and left me to it? Well… you were kind of right.” 

 

“So you _did_ break something?”

 

“No. I accidentally sent the pictures to the wrong printer. I was in a rush because I wanted to get back to you and I clicked what I thought was your printer in the loft. Except when I got home, the pictures weren’t there. So I just figured they hadn’t worked and that I’d reprint them the next day. Only it turns out that they _had_ printed. Just… not on the right printer. And before I could do anything about it- I just… Everyone knows, Felicity. I ruined the surprise. I accidentally sent the pictures to the printer down in the bunker and Rene found them and told everyone. As in, everyone who was supposed to find out at our super surprise party this weekend. I’m so sorry, I honestly don’t know why-“

 

“Wait. That’s it?”

 

“What?”

 

“I’m sorry but… _that’s_ why you’ve been acting strange all day? That’s it?” 

 

“Um… yeah?”

 

“Can I just remind you that _you_ were the one who wanted to wait until the party? _I_ was the one who wanted to tell everyone as soon as we got back from the 3 month ultrasound last week. Why would I possibly be mad about this?”

 

“I just thought that you’d be mad because I’ve ruined the surprise. I mean, the entire reason we’re having a party is so we can tell everyone you’re pregnant. It’s kind of pointless now. Because they all know already.” 

 

“We can still have a party, Oliver. It’s your birthday next week, after all.” 

 

“I had a birthday party last year.” 

 

“Yeah, and I want you to have one every year. For at least the next 10 years. To make up for the ones you missed on the island and then the 5 years after you came back. Which part of me takes full credit for. I should have thrown you birthday parties every year as soon as we became friends.” 

 

“So… you’re not mad?”

 

“Not at all. I’m so _happy_ everyone knows. You know I hate secrets.” 

 

“Some secrets are good.” 

 

“Still. I’m glad this one is out in the open. Speaking of which, how did everyone react?”

 

“They were _so_ happy. Don’t tell him I said this, but I swear Dig cried. He says he didn’t, but I saw the tears in his eyes. Dinah said she already knew, although I’m not sure how. Thea was texting your mom and online shopping for baby stuff before I could even finish my sentence. My sentence being that they should all act normal and pretend they don’t know so that it wouldn’t ruin the party for you.” 

 

“She told my _mom_?”

 

“In her defence, she didn’t exactly tell her. She just assumed she already knew.”

 

“Fair point. And they were all just going to play along and pretend they didn’t know? Until Saturday night?” 

 

“Yup.”

 

“Huh.” 

 

“There’s just one more person we have to tell now, you know? William.”

 

…

 

“Is it weird that he’s the one I’m most nervous to tell?” 

 

“Are you excited too?”

 

“Of course! But… do you think he’ll be happy? I mean, I’m an only child too so I know what it’s like to never have to share anything. And he’s a sweet kid but having a baby to compete with might be hard and I feel like we have this great relationship now and I don’t want anything to-“

 

“Hey, it's alright. I’m sure you have nothing to worry about.” 

 

“But he’s only just got used to not having his mom around, Oliver. To having the two of us. To having _you_ , period. I don’t want him to think we’re, you know, trying to replace him or something.” 

 

“Why would he think that?”

 

“I don’t know. It makes more sense in my head. I just… I love William and I don’t want him to think that us having a baby is going to change that. At all.” 

 

“He isn’t going to think that, I promise. And I think the longer we keep it from him, the more you’re just going to worry about it. So why don’t we just go up and tell him now?” 

 

“Right now?”

 

“Why not?” 

 

…

 

“That’s a good question. Why not? Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please leave me a comment! I find it super difficult to continue writing without encouragement from others and so every single comment means the absolute world to me!
> 
> Feel free to leave any prompts or questions for me on Tumblr! My ask is right [HERE](http://wetsuiton.tumblr.com/ask) and I'm on there everyday :)

**Author's Note:**

> Please, please leave me a comment! I find it super difficult to continue writing without encouragement from others and so every single comment means the absolute world to me!
> 
> Feel free to leave any prompts or questions for me on Tumblr! My ask is right [HERE](http://wetsuiton.tumblr.com/ask) and I'm on there everyday :)


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